Heaven's Light
by WickedForGood13
Summary: 6th year AU; While fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, Draco is transported to Narnia. Eventual HP/DM slash.
1. Chapter 1

**The title for this story came to me after watching Disney's "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." In the film, Quasimodo sings a song about never being destined for love – he terms it "heaven's light." I believe that Draco would feel similarly; that as he'd thrown his lot in with the Death Eaters, he would never be given a chance for redemption. His trip to Narnia, though, where he meets Aslan and is forgiven, irrevocably changes him, and gives him hope that all is not lost. He now has the strength to meet with Harry and express regret at the choices he has made.**

**Also, the "Harry Potter" parts of my story are based on the "Half-Blood Prince" movie. I think it fair to warn you that I shamelessly play with timelines for my own purpose. With that in mind, just pretend that Draco does most of his work on the Vanishing Cabinet after Harry has already cursed him, rather than his work having been completed to the point where he can successfully transport Death Eaters to Hogwarts.**

**As for the "Narnia" parts, I freely mix book and movie-verse. From the books, I believe that I only take the Pevensies' actual ages, rather than those of the actors playing them. From the movies, I borrow the chronology of events and how those events play out on-screen as opposed to on the page.  
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><p>Draco was scared, a fact that he would never willingly admit to anyone, even were he to be threatened with death (which he had been). Nonetheless, he worked frantically to complete the task that the Dark Lord had chosen him for. Though his chest still pained him – and he cursed Potter to Hell, along with himself – his fear of the Dark Lord and his nefarious designs for his mother outweighed whatever physical discomfort he sustained. His fervor would have pleased his master, though by that point, Draco was past caring. All he wanted was for his family to be safe. He didn't care about sides in this war. He wanted out of it all. When Potter had confronted him in the bathroom, Draco had been almost ready to give up. The pressure was building; it came from all sides; he couldn't escape. His attempt at cursing Pot—<em>Harry<em> had been half-hearted at best. He'd been instructed by his Aunt Bella long enough to know that he had to truly mean an Unforgiveable for it to be effective. In that case, Harry would probably have felt a twinge, nothing more. Even had their confrontation taken place the previous year after Lucius' arrest, when Draco had still idolized his father and his ideals, he would still have not meant any harm. Harry was too precious to hurt. And where had _that_ thought come from?

Turning his mind back to the task at hand – fixing the Vanishing Cabinet – Draco withdrew an apple from the pocket of his robes and cautiously placed it inside, shutting the door after it. With a swish of his wand and a whispered spell, Draco heard a rush of wind that signaled the apple's disappearance. With another wave of his wand, he summoned the apple back. Draco opened the door with trepidation, only to discover that a bite had been taken out of the apple. He was crushed – all his hard work and planning . . . for naught. No, not so. He would try again, and this time, he wouldn't – nay, _could not_ – fail. Draco quaked at the thought of what form his punishment would have taken had he been at home. His body still bore the scars, and would for a long time to come. Life under the roof of the Dark Lord had been unpleasant, to say the least. For once, Draco had been glad for the end of summer, as it had signified a return to normality, of sorts. Though his task had sucked out the fun he might have otherwise had, he was still relatively safe from the influence of those who would seek to corrupt him, though not for much longer if – no, _when_ – he succeeded. At that time, Hogwarts would no longer be seen as a safe haven, and the last shred of innocence he may retain would be torn away.

Had Draco ever been innocent? He wondered. Perhaps, once upon a time, before Harry Potter had entered his life and turned the wizarding world upside down with his sudden reemergence. That first meeting had changed him – to what extent, Draco had yet to fully understand. All he knew was that he'd been snubbed, and a Malfoy didn't take that lying down. He'd retaliated with petty insults, the end result being their encounter in Diagon Alley that past summer and his attack of Pot—_Harry_ on the Hogwarts Express. In Diagon Alley, although Draco had half-expected to run into Harry at some point, he'd found himself foolishly hoping that he wouldn't. He'd been unprepared to see Harry so soon after having the dreaded Dark Mark tattooed onto his skin, a blemish he could never erase nor escape the notoriety that came with it. Over the years, Draco had developed a sixth sense when it came to Harry. As such, he'd known he was being followed to Borgin and Burkes, but he hadn't called attention to either Harry or his friends. He had almost _wanted_ someone else to know, someone else to share his burden with. When that failed, he'd lashed out – unreasonably so – at Harry on the Hogwarts Express, breaking his nose and threatening to send him back to London, alone, exactly as Draco now felt. But he hadn't meant it. Had he ever?

Draco shook his head, mentally ridding himself of thoughts concerning Harry. He had a task to complete, after all, or else suffer his master's – not to mention his father's – displeasure. Now was not the time to be distracted. Having tested an inanimate object, it was now time to use a living being. Procuring the bird had not been easy; Draco had needed to wait for a time when the corridor was empty to smuggle it away. However, he _had_ succeeded. Now if only the bird's purpose could be as successful. Trembling, he carefully set the bird inside and shut the door on it. When he next opened the door, he was horrified to discover that the bird was dead. Unbidden, tears began streaming down his cheeks. As he was alone, Draco felt free to let his true emotions show. He didn't know how long he spent crying, but he felt better for it in the end. Knowing what he must do, Draco snuck back to the bird's shared cage and stole the previous bird's companion. Taking it back to the Room of Requirement, he mindlessly went through the motions of testing the cabinet's capabilities. This time, though, he was in for a surprise, as the bird survived. Draco was startled and let out an involuntary shout of joy. He couldn't believe that it had actually worked. He was so close to completing his task, and then his family would be safe. That's all he'd ever desired.

Having often wondered what it was like to have siblings and to be part of a big family that would love and care for him, Draco found himself envying Ron Weasley, though certainly not because he'd managed to procure the friendship of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, when Draco had failed (and that was just a tiny white lie, Draco told himself, knowing the truth all the while). And that truth was that Draco was insanely jealous. Due to this fact, Draco had become attuned to Harry's movements; he could sense whether Harry was near or far away, safe or in danger. As such, he'd known that Harry was following him and trying to get into the Room of Requirement to find out what he was up to. Rather than dissuade him, as Draco rightfully should have done, he'd practically encouraged the Boy Wonder, doing his best to make things easier for him. Yet still Harry had failed. Draco was dismayed and discouraged. He knew that if he could get Harry alone, he stood a better chance of swaying Harry to his side and convincing him that he didn't want anything to do with Lord Voldemort and that he had never wanted to become a Death Eater – or, at least, that he'd become disillusioned with what being a Death Eater entailed and now wanted out. The attacks on Katie Bell and Ron were poor attempts at accomplishing his true mission, and he wanted someone to share everything with. He was tired of being alone.

Though the bird had survived, Draco knew that those who were depending on him would require further proof. That meant that he had to become a test subject. Steeling himself for what was to come, no matter how unpleasant, Draco stepped hesitantly into the cabinet and shut the door behind him. Before he knew it, air was roaring in his ears and he felt himself being whisked away. Then, just as suddenly, all was silent. Draco looked around in amazement. He certainly wasn't in the sister cabinet in Knockturn Alley. He couldn't say for sure where he was, but that he was standing on a snowy plain. All he could see for miles around was white. Even the trees, though far away, bore a light dusting of snow. A twin pair of mountains formed an imposing skyline. Draco took a deep breath as he prepared to explore his new surroundings. The air was clear and fresh, almost magical. Draco felt his worries fade away as a light breeze washed over him. Ignoring the chill – and really, a suit wasn't designed to be worn out in the cold – he looked around him with new eyes.

"Where am I?" he wondered aloud.

In the distance, Draco could make out an approaching figure. As it drew closer, he realized that it was a sleigh, and that it was driven by a pair of reindeer. Holding the reins and wielding a whip was a short little man that Draco vaguely recognized as a dwarf, having read about them in a book long ago. There was a tall and stately woman dressed in furs with snow white skin that Draco sensed would be as cold as ice. She had inky black hair and wore a crown. In her hands was a long silver wand. At her feet sat a young boy with raven locks, whose face was bruised and littered with cuts. He was mouthing something at Draco, but he seemed too cold to properly form the words.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded of the trio, and waited expectantly for an answer.


	2. Chapter 2

"Who are you?" Draco repeated impatiently. As a Malfoy, he wasn't used to being kept waiting; he always got what he wanted as soon as he'd demanded it.

Quick as a flash, before Draco could even think of raising his wand to defend himself, the dwarf was wielding his whip and had wrapped it around Draco's ankles, tripping him and effectively rendering the blond defenseless.

"You will show Her Majesty the proper respect, or else suffer the consequences," he snarled.

"I didn't know," Draco protested, already feeling as though he were back at the Manor being tortured by Voldemort while his parents were forced to watch. He felt his stomach drop as the pale-skinned woman – a _Queen_, apparently – approached where he lay in the snow.

"What is your name, Son of Adam?" she demanded as imperiously as when Draco had demanded to know who she was.

"I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy," he said, hoping that if he exuded a certain amount of confidence, then these strangers would leave him alone and he could focus on finding a way back to Hogwarts.

"And how did you come to Narnia?" she asked.

"Narnia?" Draco was confused. "What's that?"

"All of this," the Queen replied, spreading her arms out to encompass the land surrounding them. "And I am Jadis, Narnia's rightful queen and heir. Now, as I have answered your question, you shall answer mine. How did you find yourself in Narnia?"

"I'm not quite sure . . . Your Majesty," said Draco, stumbling slightly on the honorific. "I was at Hogwarts, fixing this cabinet that can transport a person from one place to another, when I found myself here. I can't explain it . . ." His voice trailed off as he hoped to have pleased this _queen_, whose resemblance to Voldemort unnerved Draco.

"Hmm . . ." Jadis stood observing the striking blond for a moment. Turning to address the dwarf, she ordered, "Tie him up with the other one. He may yet prove useful."

Powerless to resist, Draco watched, helpless, as the dwarf knelt by his head and wrapped a length of rope securely around his wrists, almost to the point of cutting off the young wizard's blood circulation. He was unceremoniously dumped on the bottom of the sleigh, landing next to the young boy that Draco had noticed was mouthing something at him before. Up close, the boy's injuries looked even worse than they had from a distance, and Draco found himself feeling strangely protective of this child who had somehow fallen into the hands of a self-fashioned queen as wicked as Jadis appeared to be.

For once, Draco found himself at a loss for words – if speaking with a fellow prisoner would even be permitted – but settled for gently nudging the boy's shoulder in what he hoped would be taken as a reassuring gesture. The boy seemed to appreciate it, as he shot Draco an attempt at a smile, but which more closely resembled a grimace. No matter, Draco understood. Settling himself as comfortably as he could on a hard floor and with his wrists tied painfully in front of him, Draco prepared to journey into the unknown. He found himself encouraging his young companion to lean against him, his own body curving around the boy's in an effort to shield him from the biting wind and icy glares that Jadis would shoot them every few minutes.

Idly, Draco found himself wondering if he'd been missed yet and if anyone would care enough to look for him. But mostly, his thoughts were of Harry. If he ever made it back to Hogwarts, Draco swore, he would go to Harry and ask him for help, on his knees if necessary.

As they travelled, Draco decided to put his Slytherin traits to use in observing the stunning landscape. Nothing much had changed – the air was still clear and fresher than anything Draco was used to; the skyline was just as magnificent as when Draco had first entered this strange place known as _Narnia_. The only thing seemingly different was that they were now gliding alongside a frozen river, though the ice seemed to be gradually thinning.

The longer they went on, the more Draco took note of his surroundings and realized that the snow was rapidly melting. Soon enough, Jadis and her entourage were forced to abandon the sleigh and continue on foot, though their final destination remained a mystery to Draco. His magical core had recognized that this _Narnia_ was a place of magic, and the snow had been enchanted. Jadis must have been the instigator, if the looks she was shooting at the melting snow – as if it had done her a personal wrong – were anything to go by.

Strategically positioned between the as-yet unnamed boy and the whip-wielding dwarf, Draco attempted to protect the boy to the best of his abilities, stepping in whenever the dwarf got particularly vicious and sustaining a number of lashes to his back and legs in the process. Despite the pain, though, Draco knew that he would do it again in a heartbeat. Somehow, Jadis' cold indifference was as terrifying as Voldemort's calm cruelty, and if this was what was in store for the wizarding world under Voldemort's reign, then Draco wanted no part of it. Better to die a traitor than live the life of a coward, he figured.

The witch, as Draco was referring to Jadis in his head, finally called for a halt. Draco looked around curiously: they were in a clearing; trees surrounded them on all sides. A sense of doom and gloom hung over everything, and Draco suppressed a shudder of apprehension, determination to protect his raven-haired companion, whatever the cost, setting in. Little did Draco realize, but Narnia was already changing him. If and when he returned to Hogwarts, he would be unrecognizable.

The two prisoners were roughly tied to a tree, one on either side of the expansive trunk. Gagged and immobile, escape was futile. However, that didn't stop either boy from struggling against their binds at the sight of a multitude of fantastical creatures, the likes of which Draco had never even heard of before, much less seen.

The beasts appeared to be in a conference, of sorts, with Jadis, making grand gestures with their paws, hooves, or hands, and talking excitedly over one another. Draco caught the occasional word, "battle" or "forces," and surmised that Jadis was planning to attack this _Aslan_ whom she had mentioned earlier when she thought he hadn't been listening. War was an ugly thing, and Draco just wanted to go home to a land and people that he understood. However, this was not to be, for Jadis chose that moment to approach the pair of boys, her fearsome knife glinting in the dim light of the forest glade.

"My use for you has run its course, Son of Adam," she murmured, stroking the bruised cheek of Draco's companion. "Farewell, Edmund."

"Wait!" Draco exclaimed, halting Jadis' movements as she prepared to bury her knife in Edmund's chest. "He's just a boy; take me instead."

"Never fear; you're next," the witch assured him.

"Please, don't do this," Draco begged, pleading for Edmund's life. Though he hated what he was about to say next, if compromising his newly discovered ideals would save Edmund, then it would all be worth it. "I have magic; I can help you."

Jadis looked at him with interest. But neither would ever know what might have happened next, for at that moment, their hideaway was invaded. Draco thought it was the end, and that Jadis had sent for additional forces. But these newcomers were apparently the "good guys," for they cut both Edmund and Draco free. An intimidating centaur scooped Edmund up into his arms, where the boy settled comfortably, nuzzling the centaur's neck, before promptly passing out.

The centaur's partner took charge of Draco, who hadn't realized how tired he was until that moment, when he no longer had to support his own weight. He sank into the centaur's embrace, melting in the arms that enfolded him so tenderly. For the first time in a long time, Draco felt safe, and he burrowed further into the warmth that seemed to surround him on all sides. Then, all he knew was the bliss of darkness as he joined Edmund in slumber.

When he next woke up, Draco was disoriented. Since his run-in with the witch, all he'd known was cold and pain and discomfort. Why, then, did he feel warm from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, as though his very soul, which had been frozen for far too long, had been thawed out? However, despite being uncertain as to where he was or what would happen to him, Draco managed to keep his head enough to attune his senses to his surroundings. Peeping out through his lashes, Draco surmised that he was in a tent, though certainly not as lavish as the one he had stayed in when he had gone to the Quidditch World Cup before his fourth year. His body seemed to be suspended in midair, so he figured that he was either in a floating bed or a hammock (he was betting on the hammock). A thick woolen blanket covered him, which accounted for the warmth that had been enveloping him since he'd regained consciousness.

Nonetheless, Draco was visibly startled when he dared to turn his head and found a fair-haired boy not much younger than himself observing him as though he were an unsolved puzzle. Noticing Draco's widened eyes, the stranger spoke to reassure him: "It's alright, Draco. You're safe now."

"Where's Edmund? Is he alright?" asked Draco frantically.

"He's right here," said the stranger, moving aside to reveal Edmund in a hammock similar to Draco's. "And he's fine, thanks to you."

"Who are you?" Draco asked, remembering the last time he'd asked such a question and the subsequent response he'd received.

The stranger could obviously sense his thoughts, for he smiled disarmingly at him and said, "My name is Peter Pevensie. I'm Edmund's brother."

Draco nodded his head. He could vaguely recall the witch mentioning something about Edmund being bait for his siblings, which made sense when he thought about her last words to Edmund – _My use for you has run its course, Son of Adam_. She had obviously believed that Edmund's siblings had given up on ever recovering him, which led to another question that had been troubling Draco since his arrival in this strange yet enchanting land known as Narnia.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

Peter's easy grin faded as he considered how best to answer Draco. "The White Witch took control of Narnia a hundred years ago, and made it so that it will always be winter, but never Christmas. We're in the middle of a war to take Narnia back. Apparently, there's a prophecy that says that my three other siblings and I are destined to bring about the downfall of the Witch and restore peace to all the land."

Draco's head fell back against the downy-soft pillow. "Seems I've exchanged one war for another," he mused. At Peter's confused expression, he went on, speaking softly so as not to waken Edmund. "Where I come from, we're in the middle of a war too. It's . . . complicated, and I'm not entirely sure which side I should choose, but I think coming here has helped to clear my head a bit and provide me with some perspective."

Hearing this, Peter beamed. "Good; I'm glad. You know, Draco, my siblings and I don't originate from Narnia either. We were born in England, though I suspect in a different time than what you're used to."

Draco conceded this fact with a nod of his head. "I live in the mid '90s, at the end of the twentieth century."

"When we left, it was the early 1940s, and England was at war with Germany," Peter informed him. "Can you tell me . . . what happens?"

Draco's reply was instantaneous. "It's probably for the best if I don't. It's unsure if and when you'll return to England, and we might mess up the natural order of time if you go back with knowledge of the future."

Peter only had time for a hurried nod in Draco's direction before he was distracted by the fluttering of Edmund's eyelashes.

"Peter?" Edmund mumbled sleepily.

"I'm here, Eddie," Peter replied, instantly kneeling at his brother's side and reaching out a hand to tenderly stroke his face.

"You stayed?" Edmund sounded surprised.

"Of course; I wasn't about to let you out of my sight again," said Peter, trying to sound stern, but even Draco could pick up on the care and concern he obviously felt for his younger brother.

Edmund, though, didn't seem to notice. "I'm sorry, Peter," he whispered, lowering his eyes to his lap as though ashamed to meet his elder brother's gaze. "I'm _so_ sorry," he repeated, at a loss as to what else to say.

"It's alright," said Peter, moving to take the younger boy in his arms and cradling him to his chest. "Everything's going to be alright, you'll see. Things are going to be different, better. You and me – I don't want us to be just brothers; I want us to be friends, too."

"I'd like that," Edmund mumbled against Peter's chest, "You've no idea how much and for how long I've wanted that."

Draco felt awkward, as though he were intruding on something private and sacred – and in a way, he was. But Peter and Edmund were too lost in each other – too far gone – to care.

"It's alright," Peter whispered again, swaying from side to side with Edmund still firmly ensconced in his arms. "Aslan's forgiven you, and so have I. Now you just have to forgive yourself."

"I don't know if I can," Edmund admitted. "I feel rotten; I sold you and the girls out for Turkish delight. What kind of a person – not to mention, a brother – does that make me?"

"One who was tempted, but saw the error of his ways," Peter replied surely. "You'll get there, Ed, and I'll be there with you, every step of the way."

"You promise?" asked Edmund, hopeful, yet trying not to sound so.

"I promise," Peter vowed.

Edmund melted into Peter's embrace, finally allowing himself the comfort he had been denying as a form of self-punishment. Only then did he allow himself to cry, staining Peter's tunic with his tears. Peter, for his part, didn't seem to mind, just held Edmund tighter. And now, Draco felt distinctly uncomfortable (as if he hadn't already been before). Swinging his legs over the side of the hammock, he tested his weight to make sure that his body could support him, before rising to his feet.

"I-I should go," he stammered, unnerved by two brothers being so open with their emotions. His own parents rarely told him that they loved him, much less held him as Peter was holding Edmund.

"Draco, wait!" Edmund called out. When Draco was within reach, Edmund firmly grasped his hand. "Thank you," he said sincerely. No other words were needed for what he was trying to convey.

"You're welcome," Draco replied evenly, needing to escape before he lost control of his own emotions. Once outside of the tent, he was at a loss as to where to go. Picking a direction at random, he began to walk and soon found himself on a cliff overlooking the sea. In the distance, there stood a magnificent palace that gleamed in the early afternoon sunlight. The breeze ruffled his bangs, and Draco felt himself at peace. In that moment, he found himself not only believing in the prophecy concerning the Pevensies, but in Harry as well. Draco knew that Harry would win. He just couldn't be wrong, or else life would lose its meaning and he may as well die. He would, anyway. Under Voldemort's rule, he wouldn't last long at all.

"Draco," came a low and comforting voice from behind him.

Turning, Draco found himself confronted by a golden haze. When he was better able to focus, he realized that what he saw standing before him was a lion.

"Aslan," he breathed, and sank to his knees.


	3. Chapter 3

"Arise, my Son," said the Lion, and Draco could practically _hear_ the smile in His voice.

He stood, albeit somewhat shakily, and awaited Aslan's judgment, for there was no doubt that this magnificent creature had read his heart and knew all of his secrets.

"Draco, why do you fear me?" Aslan asked, and Draco swore that he almost sounded sad.

"I-I don't, sir," he stammered, "I fear being a disappointment – not only to you, but to my friends and family."

"Well spoken, Son of Adam," the Lion praised him. "Tell me, do you fear death?"

"No," Draco said with conviction. And in that moment, he realized that he and Harry had something in common, for Harry had always been prepared to back up his words with actions, even if he died as a result. While Draco didn't know what he stood for anymore, or what he should even believe in, he was now prepared to do the same.

Aslan was studying him with a knowing gleam in his eyes, as if he had seen into Draco's mind and read his thoughts. He chuckled, low in his throat, when Draco met his gaze. "You'll do," he said, and that simple statement made Draco's heart swell with pride.

Silence fell as Lion and Human stood looking out over the horizon. After some minutes spent in this position, Aslan spoke again, "The difference between what is right and what is easy are not always apparent at first. Since entering Narnia, Draco, what have you observed?"

Draco thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Narnia is beautiful, both the land and its people. But the White Witch has instilled fear in the hearts of many, which make them hesitant to fight back. She needs to be stopped before she completely destroys what makes this place special."

"And are you prepared to fight at Peter's side to help him achieve this end?" asked Aslan, gazing at him intently.

"I am," Draco replied surely.

"And when you return to your world, what will your intentions be then?" asked the Lion sternly.

"I—W-what do you mean?" asked Draco, his knees knocking together from nerves as he realized that _He knew_. Aslan knew what his plans had been and still must be.

"Tell me, Draco," said Aslan kindly, posing a different question to the young wizard, "What does war mean to you? What is your understanding of what takes place on a battlefield?"

"War is an ugly thing, leaving only death and destruction in its wake," Draco replied instantly. "Innocent people suffer, and families are torn apart as sons and fathers, brothers and husbands are sent to fight for a cause that they may or may not believe in."

Aslan contemplated Draco's words for a moment. "You forget the women," He said at last. "Women make just as capable fighters as men."

"I don't doubt it, sir," said Draco, conceding Aslan's point with a respectful nod of his head. "But as I have yet to experience battle, my only knowledge is from what I've read in books, which I have found to tell tales of women participating in war only as healers, never as fighters."

"Fair enough, Son of Adam," said Aslan, smiling broadly at him as though Draco had just won some great argument, "And what of you? Are you prepared to kill in the upcoming battle for justice?"

"I-I don't know," said Draco, bowing his head in shame at appearing weak in the presence of the High King over all Kings in Narnia.

"Before coming here, you were prepared to murder an old man in cold blood," said Aslan calmly, revealing the full extent of his knowledge in regards to Draco.

At His words, Draco's alabaster skin paled, if possible, even further. "I-I don't have a choice," he cried out, desperate for someone to understand the position he'd found himself in. "Voldemort said that he would force me to watch as he killed my parents before ending my life himself. I don't have a choice."

The ashen blond was nearly in hysterics. Aslan nuzzled him gently and breathed softly on him. The effect was instantaneous, for Draco appeared as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you," he whispered.

"There is always a choice, dear one," Aslan advised him, which Draco took to mean Harry, who would be his salvation as much as his undoing.

"I realize that now," he said.

"Do you?" Aslan queried.

"Yes, Aslan," said Draco, nodding resolutely. "And I've made my decision. I'll fight for you; I'll fight for Peter, Edmund, and their sisters; I'll fight for Harry when I return. I'll strive to be someone that those who matter can respect and admire. I want to make you proud."

"You already have," Aslan assured him. And with that, He left Draco to contemplate all that had transpired.

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><p>Draco didn't know how long he'd been staring off into the distance, watching as the sunlight reflected off of the glistening sea water and shone on the castle where the Pevensies would sit as monarchs. He sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, his chin resting on his knees. Although he now knew what the right thing to do was – actually, he suspected that he'd always know; the truth had just been buried underneath all of the expectations that had been piled on top of him – he still feared the consequences of his actions.<p>

In that moment, he wanted Harry. When he was with Harry, even if they were insulting each other, he felt as he did in Aslan's presence: safe, comforted, protected, even loved (albeit unconventionally). While such emotions might seem strange to others, Draco felt this way because he knew Harry better than anyone (all those years spent attuning himself to Harry's presence so that he would know when to speak up had paid off in the end), and he knew that no matter what he and Harry had said or done to each other, the Chosen One would still act in his defense were he to be threatened. _Noble self-sacrificing idiotic Gryffindor_.

"Hello."

Draco was torn from his thoughts by the arrival of a young girl. She couldn't have been more than eight years old, yet she already carried herself like royalty. No doubt in Draco's mind, this was Lucy, the youngest Pevensie.

"Your majesty," he greeted her, respectfully bowing his head.

"Please, call me Lucy," she begged him.

"As you wish, my queen," he replied, smirking cheekily up at her.

She grinned back and settled herself comfortably on the ground next to him. "I want to thank you for saving my brother's life and for bringing him back to us," she said at last.

"Oh, I didn't do much," said Draco, modest for once.

"You took the lash for him," Lucy countered. And here, the future queen's features darkened momentarily at the thought of _anyone_ choosing to inflict pain on another person. Draco had to suppress a shudder – Lucy Pevensie was _not_ someone he ever wanted to cross. Still, no one as young as she was should look the way she currently did.

"And how did I bring Edmund back to you?" he asked, trying to change the subject and turn Lucy's mind to pleasanter things. "As far as I'm aware, Orieus was the one who found us and brought us here."

"That may be," Lucy conceded, "If not for your act of heroism, though, Edmund might still be a spoiled bully. Because of you, he's been changed for the better. He's become the Edmund he used to be, before he started boarding school."

"I'm glad to have been of service," Draco said after a moment's pause, shocked that he could have had such a profound effect on someone. He had a sense of déjà vu as he felt Lucy's eyes on him, piercing his very soul just as Aslan's did.

"You're not used to being made to feel that you matter, are you?" she asked, curious to a fault.

Draco opened his mouth to deny her claim, but found that he couldn't lie to this girl. He shook his head, "No," he whispered.

"I-I don't understand," Lucy stammered, wondering how one person could make another not feel wanted.

"I do," Draco replied surely. At Lucy's confused glance, he elaborated, "Where I come from, I've been ordered to kill a man, a very good man."

"Oh, Draco," Lucy exclaimed. "You aren't going to do it, are you? Killing's wrong. Everyone knows that."

"No, I'm not going to do it," Draco admitted. "I-I couldn't. I'm not a killer. I knew that before, but coming here has helped to remind me of that fact."

"I'm glad," said Lucy, throwing her arms around him in her excitement at his apparent reformation, which resulted in Draco falling on his back with Lucy perched precariously on top of him.

Although Draco initially tensed at Lucy's touch – unused to being shown any kind of affection not associated with pain – he soon relaxed into the embrace, crushing Lucy to his chest and holding on tight. For her part, Lucy let him hold her, sensing that he needed this.

"Having fun?"

Draco and Lucy looked up to find a dark-haired pre-teen standing above them.

"Hi, Su," said Lucy, bounding to her feet and pulling Draco up after her. "This is Draco."

"Everyone knows who he is, Lu," said Susan, smiling gently at their clasped hands. When Draco noticed her stare, he attempted to disentangle their intertwined fingers, but Lucy held on tight and Draco relented.

"And who am I?" he asked, curious as to what an older and wiser queen than Lucy would say.

"Why, a hero, of course!" Susan exclaimed.

"Told you so," said Lucy, playfully poking Draco in the stomach with her elbow. He retaliated by pinning her arms above her head and tickling her relentlessly. She let out a high pitched squeal and attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held fast to her wrists.

"D-Dr-Draco," she laughed gaily, enjoying the joke too much to protest more vehemently.

"Had enough?" he whispered dangerously low in her ear.

"Y-yes," she whispered breathlessly. With that, Draco abruptly let her go. She tipped forward and would have fallen flat on her face had Draco not reacted as quickly as he had, his hands shooting out to grip Lucy's waist and set her back on her feet.

"Careful, little darling," he cautioned her.

Throughout this exchange, Susan had stood quietly, observing her sister with Draco. Now, she spoke up, "Come on, we're going to train with the boys."

Lucy skipped happily to Susan's side.

"I'll see you later, then," said Draco, raising his hand in farewell.

"What are you talking about?" Susan stared at him with an incredulous look on her face. "You're coming too. Peter and Edmund won't take "No" for an answer. You're one of us now, Draco, like it or not."

Draco was too stunned to do anything but nod and follow dumbly after them.

_One of us._

Since when had Draco belonged anywhere? Even among Death Eaters he was scum. The only reason he'd been allowed "in" was so that he could pay off his father's debts – with his life. Not a happy thought.

The trio arrived on the training grounds to find Peter and Edmund already sparring. Susan picked up her bow and arrows to get some practice in, Lucy tagging along behind. Draco watched as Susan set her eyes on the target positioned directly across from her and let a single arrow fly. It scored a hit on the edge of the rings. Draco smirked as he watched Lucy pull out her dagger and eye Susan, then the target. In one seamless motion, she had released the dagger, embedding it firmly in the very center of the target. Draco whooped in glee at her success, and quickly found everyone's attention focused on him.

He smiled sheepishly and waited to be addressed. He'd never felt so awkward. While he was older than them all by several years, they were destined to be kings and queens, and he one of their subjects. They were all equals at the same time as they weren't. Where was his place?

"Come and join us, Draco," Edmund entreated him.

"Yes, please," Peter added, smiling disarmingly at Draco.

Before he could respond, Lucy ran up and grabbed his hand, dragging Draco after her. He shot an apologetic smile over his shoulder at the brothers before turning his attention to the insistent queen standing before him.

"You're going to learn to throw knives," she informed him.

"As my queen commands, I obey," Draco replied, executing a courtly bow and peering up at her through his lashes.

At his behavior, Lucy had put her hands on her hips, glaring in the way that only a child could, but when she saw the twinkle in his eyes, she threw back her head and laughed. "Here," she said, offering him the dagger she had previously retrieved from the target. "You hold it like this, and then . . . just . . . fling it," she said, flicking her wrist as if to demonstrate with an imaginary dagger.

Draco nodded to show he understood, before copying her movements precisely. He scored a direct hit on his first try. He could only stare slack-jawed at the target where his dagger had landed dead center.

"Oh, well done, Draco," exclaimed Lucy, jumping up and down excitedly next to him. "Now try again."

So Draco retrieved the dagger and took his position again. However, when he continued to hit the target every time, it soon became obvious that he didn't need the practice.

"Think you can handle a sword?" asked Peter, raising a single eyebrow in a challenge that Draco couldn't refuse.

"I'm sure I can manage," he said confidently.

Swaggering over to accept the proffered weapon, Draco took up a fighting stance and waited for Peter to attack. Relying on basic instincts, he swung and parried, defending himself to the best of his abilities. Then, from out of nowhere, Edmund joined the fight, siding with Peter. Though momentarily startled, Draco soon recovered and retaliated with surprising force. The trio eventually called a truce when it became apparent that they were all of relatively the same skill and that no one would win. They stood breathing heavily, the sweat trickling down their faces, but smiling in triumph.

Their peace was soon shattered by the approach of Oreius. "Your majesties, Draco," he called. "The Witch is coming; Aslan requires your presence at his tent."

"At once, Oreius," said Draco when it appeared that none of the Pevensies were capable of responding. Rather, they had frozen in place, all staring at Edmund, whose wide-eyed gaze was flickering from face to face, before finally coming to rest on Draco. In a rare show of insight, Draco approached the young king-to-be and held out his hand. "Let's go," he said calmly, though, in reality, he was terrified of facing the Witch again. She scared him even more so than Voldemort did.

The Pevensies followed Draco on shaking limbs, all whispering quiet reassurances to Edmund, who was still clinging to Draco's hand. Ignoring the others, and conveniently forgetting the probable consequences of such an action, Draco said, "She's not going to take you, Edmund, or me. But certainly not you; it'll be over my dead body."

"And mine," Peter chimed in, letting his hand fall heavily on Edmund's shoulder, touching some part of his younger brother's body to reassure himself that he was there in the flesh and not a figment of his imagination or mere wishful thinking.

Edmund looked at Draco in terror. However, Draco met his gaze evenly and simply replied, "Everything's going to be fine."

No more words were needed as they arrived at Aslan's tent where a crowd was already starting to gather. They joined the throng and waited for the Witch to appear. Tension seemed to roll off of everyone in waves, making Draco wish that there was a spell he knew that could calm the masses. Then, the Witch was sighted. With trepidation, everyone watched as she came steadily closer. Hardly aware of what they were doing, the Pevensies and Draco closed ranks around Edmund, acting as a human shield to protect him from the Witch's wrath.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan," she announced, pointing an accusing finger in Edmund's direction.

"His crime was not against you," said Aslan patiently.

"Nonetheless, the laws of Narnia clearly state that every traitor belongs to me; his blood is my property."

From his position in front of Edmund, Draco could feel the younger boy shrinking back against his eldest sister's body, seeking comfort from her gentle ways. He had to do something, and all he could think of was to challenge the Witch's claim.

Stepping out, Draco casually twirled his wand between his fingers. "I wouldn't try to take him if I were you," he said pleasantly.

"And why is that?" asked the Witch, obviously humoring him.

"Don't you remember?" Draco hissed, dropping the friendly façade in an instant and becoming decidedly dangerous. "I have magic; you don't want to cross me."

"I'll take my chances," she said, turning her attention back to Aslan.

Draco let the Great Cat take charge, and faded back into the crowd, coming to stand beside Peter, who appeared ready to fight at a moment's notice. Clearly, anyone with an interest in Edmund would have to go through him first.

"Relax, Peter," said Draco, watching as Aslan led the Witch into his tent. "Aslan will fix everything."

"It's not _Him_ I doubt," Peter replied tersely.

No more words were spoken as everyone took a seat on the grass, waiting for a decision to be reached. Almost idly, Edmund began to pull up tufts of grass by their roots, tearing them in his hands from sheer nerves. Draco smoothly captured the younger boy's wrists in his own hands. Locking eyes with Edmund, his words were for the Pevensies only: "No one's going to hurt you, Edmund. Your family won't let anything happen to you, and neither will I."

"Thank you, Draco," said Edmund, shooting him a tremulous smile, but a smile nonetheless.

At that moment, the Witch and Aslan reappeared. The Witch smirked triumphantly at the Pevensies and Draco, before flouncing over to her chariot and taking a seat. Addressing Aslan, she said, "How do I know your promise will be kept?"

With a mighty roar, Aslan sent the Witch and her minions scurrying out of camp in a state of near-panic. Everyone cheered at the sight of the Witch's hasty retreat, but in the middle of it all, Draco thought that Aslan looked rather dejected. A sudden thought struck him – too horrible to give voice to anyone but the Great Cat himself – and he broke away from the others to speak privately with Aslan.

"Excuse me, sir," he said timidly.

Aslan turned to face him. "What is it, Draco?"

"Are you really going to do it, sir?" Draco asked. "Are you really going to die in Edmund's place on the Stone Table?"

Aslan sighed heavily. "Yes, Draco, I intend to do so. But I would appreciate you keeping this information to yourself for the time being."

"Of course, sir," said Draco. "And, I'd just like to say, thank you."

"For what, my Son?" asked Aslan, coming as close to smiling as a Lion could.

"For believing in me when no one else did, and for helping me to choose between what's right and what's easy," Draco replied.

"You've always had the power to determine your own fate, Draco. Remember that," Aslan advised him.

"I will, Aslan. Thank you." Draco tentatively stretched out his arm, as if to touch the Lion, before quickly retracting it. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, Draco launched himself at Aslan, wrapping his arms around His neck and threading his fingers through His golden mane. "I'll never forget you or my time here," he vowed.

Aslan breathed softly on Draco, before flicking his tongue out and gently licking Draco's cheek. "I have faith in you, Draco."

Draco didn't know what else there was for him to say, so he settled for bowing low to the great Lion and rejoining the Pevensies. Although he was bothered by Aslan's willing sacrifice, he pasted a smile on his face in the hopes of convincing Edmund and everyone else that nothing was wrong.

"What was that about?" asked Susan.

"Oh, I was just thanking Aslan for all that he's done for me," Draco replied, praying that Susan would believe the half-truth.

Susan nodded and turned to converse with a nearby faun. Draco shuddered at the weight Aslan's secret had placed on him. However, he bore it willingly, just as Aslan did. He would make the Lion proud, of that he was certain. As the evening wore on, though, Draco wanted nothing more than for the oblivion of sleep to claim him. When the Pevensies finally headed towards their tents – and, subsequently, their beds – Draco followed, glad to be allowed to rest at last. He knew that the Pevensies didn't fully understand what being royalty meant, but it placed limitations on those around them, such as Draco himself. Being one of their subjects, he couldn't act without their permission, and, as such, couldn't go to bed until they did themselves.

Settling in his hammock for what was sure to be a restless night, Draco listened to the steady breathing of Edmund and Peter, who refused to be separated and thus were sharing a hammock. Surprisingly, Draco soon found himself drifting off to sleep. His last conscious thought was a prayer that the Witch was quick, if not merciful, when killing Aslan. It was the first time Draco could recall thinking of someone other than himself who wasn't family.


	4. Chapter 4

When Draco woke, it was not yet light. Still half-asleep, he looked around for the rustling sound that had disturbed his surprisingly-peaceful slumber. At the sight of a young woman composed of leaves, he almost rolled over and went back to sleep, before what he'd seen registered with his brain. He sat up in alarm and reached for his wand, while at the same time looking out for Peter and Edmund. He needn't have worried about them. Peter had his sword drawn, and was crouched over Edmund, shielding his younger brother's body with his own. The figure – a Dryad, Draco would later discover – gave a tinkling laugh, though it sounded somewhat forced to Draco's well-trained ears. And he would know, having spent the past year deceiving everyone as to his true emotions.

"At ease, my kings," she whispered softly. "I bring grave news from your sisters."

It was at this point that the events of the past day caught up with Draco: being rescued from the Witch, bonding with the Pevensies, talking with Aslan and realizing that he intended to sacrifice himself for Edmund's sake. The Dryad's news could only be that Aslan was dead. Susan and Lucy must have gone with him to the Stone Table, Draco surmised, though not all the way, surely. Aslan wouldn't have put them at risk like that.

Despite knowing what they'd find, Draco still accompanied Peter and Edmund to Aslan's tent, which was, as expected, empty. Draco watched as Peter turned from the entrance flap, his shoulders slumped in defeat as the realization that _he_ would have to lead the army set in.

"I can't do this without him," Peter whispered.

Edmund chose that moment to speak up. "Aslan believed you could," he said simply, "And so do I."

Draco knew that Edmund's words – his _faith_ – meant more to the future High King than any of the platitudes he could have come up with. Although not privy to what their relationship had been like before coming to Narnia, Draco understood that it had been rather fraught with tension. For Edmund to now encourage and support his brother, whereas before he might have tried to tear him down, was monumental, a fact that obviously did not escape Peter's notice, if his widened eyes, shining with unshed tears, were any indication.

"Thanks," he whispered, fighting to speak past the lump that had formed in his throat.

"What are your orders, Sire?" asked Oreius, joining the trio of boys around the table that held various maps, charts, and battle plans.

Peter soon fell into his new role as he began outlining the strategy that he and Aslan had previously discussed. Could it really have been just the other day?

Draco felt a tugging on his tunic and turned to find Edmund motioning for him to follow. Shooting Peter and Oreius one last glance, Draco joined Edmund a short distance away.

"I know that the Witch is aware of your magic," Edmund began. "And I can imagine that this will make you a prime target. However, Peter is my only brother, and he's to be the High King. I want you to guard him with your life, Draco."

"Is that a command, Sire?" asked Draco, who couldn't resist teasing Edmund even in the face of the danger they would be facing shortly.

"More of a request," Edmund replied.

"Very well, then," said Draco. "I would be honored to fight alongside your brother in battle."

"Thank you," Edmund whispered, closing his eyes as he breathed a sigh in relief at having hopefully guaranteed his brother's survival, if not his own.

"Watch your own back, though, too," Draco cautioned. "I don't know what Peter would do if he lost you."

"He'd get by," Edmund shrugged. "We may have been close when I was a little kid – well, littl_er_ – but then we grew up and drifted apart. He never seemed to miss what we'd had all that much, so I acted out to get his attention."

"And did it work?" asked Draco with a smirk. He understood Edmund's reasoning perfectly. After all, he did the same thing with Harry.

"He noticed me, all right," Edmund shuddered dramatically as he remembered that mad dash from the house to the shelter before being sent to the Professor's country mansion. That had been the only time he'd ever truly been afraid of Peter, and he almost thought that he would have rather faced the Germans than his own brother.

"What about now?" Draco probed.

"We've never been better," said Edmund, beaming at the thought of being reunited with his only brother, who he now knew that he loved more than life itself.

"He looks happy, too," said Draco, discreetly observing Peter from a distance. "I think he missed you more than you realize. I don't think he's left your side once since your arrival in camp. He loves you, Edmund; never doubt that. I may not be an expert in familial love – or even romantic love, for that matter – but even a blind man could see that Peter would willingly lay down his life for you without a moment's hesitation."

"He shouldn't feel that way." Edmund scuffed the toe of his boot along the ground, kicking at a patch of grass and dirt. "I almost betrayed him and the girls. If not for you, Draco, I'd still be in the clutches of the Witch."

"Nonsense," Draco scoffed. "Peter would have gotten you back, one way or another; and if not him, then certainly Aslan. Where's your faith, Edmund?"

"Long thought lost," Edmund whispered, staring at the ground rather than meeting Draco's eye or those of the soldiers milling about in readiness for the battle ahead.

"Edmund, look at me," ordered Draco, hoping that the younger boy would hear the intensity of his voice and obey.

Hesitantly, Edmund raised his head, delaying the inevitable until he could no longer avoid looking Draco directly in the eye. He gasped at the depth of emotions he saw pooling in the grey orbs.

"Edmund," Draco began. "Where I come from, there's a war going on as well, similar to this one. If you believe in sides, then I'm on what's considered the "wrong" side. For so long, though, I believed that I was in the right and it was everyone else who was wrong. But since coming here, I've realized that I've been lying to myself. At least you've seen the error of your ways before you went too far and been granted a second chance, Edmund. I doubt I'll be as lucky when I return."

"What did you do that was so bad?" asked Edmund.

"It's not what I did, but what I was ordered to do," Draco revealed. At Edmund's curious look, he went on, loathe as he was to show the worst of himself to this child who saw him as some sort of hero: "I was ordered to kill someone because he's considered the leader of the "right" side. But it's really just a punishment for my father's failings."

"Oh, but Draco, you aren't going to do it, are you?" asked Edmund.

Draco fought the smile that was threatening to spread across his features. Now wasn't the time or the place, even if Edmund had just proved himself to be Lucy's brother. They really were like two peas in a pod.

"No, Edmund," he said slowly. "I'm not going to do it because I realized something: I'm not a killer. In war, there are always losses, true, and I'll kill when I must – in battle – but otherwise, I won't raise my wand with the intention of causing pain."

"I'm glad," said Edmund, wrapping his arms around Draco's torso and squeezing tightly.

"Me too," Draco whispered, returning the embrace and trying to hold back the tears that had sprung to his eyes, unbidden, at Edmund's sweet and sincere actions.

And that was how Peter found them. Having finished consulting with Oreius and giving the General his orders regarding the placement of the troops, Peter had turned his attention to finding where his brothers had gotten to, for he considered Draco as much a part of his family as Edmund or either of the girls.

"Is everything alright?" asked Peter, slightly alarmed at finding the two boys with their arms wrapped so tightly around each other that he could hardly tell where one ended and the other began.

"Yes, Peter," said Edmund, pulling away just enough to shoot Peter a reassuring grin. "Everything's just fine."

Sharing one last look, Edmund and Draco separated; the older of the two promised with his eyes that he wouldn't share with Peter what they'd been discussing. Edmund's secret wasn't his to tell, just as Draco's wasn't for Edmund to tell either. Their secretive glances didn't go unnoticed by Peter, but he chose not to comment, figuring that they would come to him in their own time. In any event, he shouldn't be worrying about what they were or weren't telling him when there was a battle to win.

"Come on," said Peter gravely. "It's time."

Nodding solemnly, Edmund and Draco fell into step with Peter on the way to their tent. Dismissing their attendants, choosing to dress themselves, Peter and Draco joined forces to help Edmund into his armor; Edmund and Draco helped Peter next; then it was Draco's turn. When they were all dressed, they stood observing each other in silence.

Draco had never felt more out of place in his own skin. "I never thought I'd be preparing to go to war," he admitted softly. "Back home, when the time came, I always intended to stay out of the fighting. I never thought I was destined to be a warrior."

"You can't choose your destiny, Draco," said Peter, speaking with wisdom beyond his years. "Destiny chooses you."

"All you can do is choose what to do with that destiny," Edmund chimed in.

"You know, you're going to make a wonderful pair of kings," said Draco after a moment's pause, once more blinking back tears.

"I only wish you could be there at our side," said Peter. "I can think of no one I would rather have advising me and my siblings."

"I'm honored that you think so highly of me, Sire," said Draco, bowing from the waist down and peering up through his lashes to shoot Peter and Edmund a cheeky grin. Draco hadn't changed so much that he would ever consent to subjecting himself to another person's will, with the exception of Aslan and Harry.

"Let's go," said Peter, once their laughter had subsided. Walking single file out of the tent, he turned to address the other two: "Draco, you're stationed with Edmund and the archers. Both of you – stay back until there's no other choice but to engage in battle."

"Understood," said Draco, nodding in acknowledgement of Peter's direct order.

"Then I don't think there's anything left to say. Aslan keep you, my brothers."

"And Aslan keep you," Edmund and Draco chorused.

They split off, then: Peter made his way to the front of the army that he would lead, Oreius beside him; Edmund and Draco clambered up to stand on the cliffs overlooking the battlefield to stand with the archers. Draco clutched the sword at his side, his wand gripped in his other hand, already slick with sweat. In that instant, though, he wasn't scared for himself. He was worried about Peter, and how he would fulfill his promise to Edmund to guard Peter's back if he was up here and Peter was down there.

"Relax, Draco," Edmund urged him. "Everything will be fine. We're going to end up down there eventually, and then we can both look out for Peter. He needs it; I swear . . . he's too noble for his own good."

Draco's head had snapped up at hearing Edmund speak, shocked that the other boy had so easily been able to read him. Before Narnia, he'd always prided himself on being a mystery, a puzzle he was confident that those around him would never manage to solve. Now, he was like an open book to his companions.

There wasn't time for any more conversation, as the Witch suddenly appeared, along with her minions. She was in a chariot that was being pulled by a pair of polar bears; her hair was loose and free-flowing, and around her neck, she wore a mantle that Draco had a sneaking suspicion was Aslan's mane. It was as if she was rubbing it in her opponents' faces that she had killed Him, though Peter's soldiers remained ignorant as to where the Great Cat actually was.

At that moment, a call rose up among the ranks, initiated by Peter, no doubt.

"For Narnia! And for Aslan!"

With that, both armies began to charge towards each other, and Draco swore that all sound stopped. Then, first contact was made, and the battle commenced. It was fast and furious, and Draco and Edmund couldn't always tell who was who. The only one they never lost sight of was Peter; his distinctive red tunic made him hard to miss. As such, they could see every move he made, and how he was right in the thick of things. By this time, Edmund and Draco had joined the fight. Edmund held his own in combat, but Draco was a sight to behold; he was positively lethal. With both sword and wand at his disposal, he made for a deadly enemy; as many of the Witch's army fell to his sword as to his wand.

The Witch was powerful, though, and Peter's forces lost many a good soldier at her hand.

Draco was slewing creatures left and right – he would deal with the guilt later – when he noticed Peter battling a Minotaur. The Witch was nearby, and was sizing Peter up with a maniacal gleam in her eye. Draco and Edmund were surrounded and fighting back to back. There was nowhere to go, but Draco knew that Edmund's place was by his brother's side. Blasting their opponents back a few feet, Draco cleared a path for Edmund, who looked at Draco with gratitude in his eye. However, it wasn't to Peter that Edmund made his way, but to the Witch.

"Stay with Peter," he shouted. "Remember your promise, Draco. Don't let me down."

Spinning so that his back was to Edmund, Draco retreated in the same general direction. Sparing a glance for the eldest Pevensie monarch, Draco noticed a rogue fawn headed straight Peter's way. Without a second thought, Draco threw himself in the fawn's path, engaging him in combat. The fawn was nimble and quick, and managed to slash at Draco's side, resulting in the first of his blood spilling on the battlefield.

Incensed at allowing an opponent such an easy shot, Draco quickly disposed of the fawn before once more returning his attention to Peter, who looked horrified by something. Following his line of vision, Draco saw Edmund make an attempt at shattering the Witch's wand, which would give their side a fighting chance. The Witch evaded Edmund, but in a stroke of luck, Edmund still managed to bring his sword down directly on the wand. An icy blue light spread outwards as it broke into a million little pieces, and Edmund was left staring transfixed at his success. Using his distraction to her advantage, the Witch drove the remaining piece of her wand into Edmund's stomach. Clutching at his side, he fell, somehow managing to lock eyes with Peter from across the battlefield.

Enraged at having witnessed his little brother be injured – and not being able to have prevented such a tragedy from occurring – Peter clumsily ran towards the Witch, determined to make her pay for the harm she had brought to his family. Having guessed what Peter was about to do, Draco was prepared to act and quickly followed after his errant leader. Darting in front of the future High King of Narnia, Draco brandished his wand, clearly challenging the Witch to fight.

With a feral snarl, she attacked. Bobbing and weaving, Draco fought on, casting any and every spell that came to mind. Losing wasn't an option.

But suddenly, winning or losing didn't matter anymore, because Aslan was there. Where he came from or how he got there, no one thought to ask. They were all too happy to see him, including Draco.

Launching himself at the Witch, Aslan pinned her to the ground and roared in her face. He then turned to face Draco. "Well done, my Son," he said, and only then did Draco allow himself to fall to his knees and weep in relief at it all being over.

Lurching unsteadily to his feet at the recollection that the last he'd seen of Edmund, he'd been wounded, Draco hurried to find him. When he reached the spot where Edmund had fallen, it was to discover the same dwarf that had held the two of them prisoner threatening Edmund with an axe. Deftly pulling the knife that Lucy insisted he keep in his boot, Draco flung it with deadly precision, landing a direct hit in the dwarf's chest at the same time as an arrow lodged itself in the dwarf's throat. Turning in surprise, Draco found Susan with her bow cocked. Lucy and Peter surged past her, and she and Draco weren't far behind. As one, they all fell to their knees around Edmund.

"Eddie?" whispered Peter, who couldn't keep his voice from breaking.

"Lucy, the cordial!" exclaimed Draco, suddenly remembering what seemed such a long-ago conversation about the Pevensies, sans Edmund, meeting Father Christmas and being gifted with tools to help them in the coming war.

Hands fumbling slightly due to nerves, Lucy withdrew the small pouch containing the precious cordial and tipped it so that a single drop would fall on Edmund's tongue. Everyone held their breath as they waited – seemingly an eternity – for him to open his eyes, and when Edmund finally did, it was to be confronted by his family, who all looked as if someone had just died. He was abruptly pulled into Peter's arms and crushed to his chest.

"Eddie," he chanted over and over again as tears streamed down his cheeks. Susan and Lucy joined the hug, their arms naturally coming to surround the boys in a gesture of love and protection. Draco felt incredibly awkward, being on the outside looking in, until Lucy and Susan both tugged on his arms until he practically melted into the embrace.

They remained that way until Aslan gently reminded Lucy that there were others who would benefit from the healing powers of the fireflies' cordial. The first recipient was Draco, who watched in stunned amazement as his wound closed up of its own volition, leaving behind only a faint scar that matched the ones Harry had gifted him with. After that, there was no stopping Lucy as she flitted from soldier to soldier and quickly earned the reputation of being an angel of mercy.

* * *

><p>It was later that night when Draco finally found a moment to be alone and think over everything that had happened to him in such a relatively short time. There was no doubt in his mind that he had now fulfilled his purpose in coming here and would surely be returning to Hogwarts soon.<p>

"Is something troubling you, Draco?" asked a voice from behind him, and Draco whirled around to find himself face to face with Aslan.

"Not exactly," he replied honestly as the Lion fell into step with him. "I'm just thinking about all that's happened to me, and that I'll probably be going back to Hogwarts soon."

"Only if you so choose," said Aslan, nuzzling Draco's side in a comforting gesture, for he hadn't forgotten the young wizard's initial reaction following his sudden reappearance. "There's more on your mind, though, isn't there?"

"I'm afraid," Draco admitted. "I now know what the right path is, but that doesn't mean it will be easy. For one thing, what will Harry say or do when I align myself with him and Dumbledore? I don't think I could survive his rejection."

"From what I know of young Mr. Potter, he will most likely welcome you with open arms," said Aslan, chuckling slightly at Draco's apprehension. "But there's still more, isn't there?"

Draco sighed. There's was no keeping secrets around Aslan. "I love him, Aslan," he whispered brokenly. "Yet I've treated him and his friends horribly. How can he accept me after that?"

"Harry has a forgiving nature and an open heart," Aslan revealed, nuzzling Draco once more. "Having been starved for love will make him more receptive to your advances, dear one. Be honest with him about your feelings, and you might be surprised."

"Thank you," Draco whispered, bowing low from the waist down. Standing straight once more, he called out to Aslan, "If you'll pardon me, sir, do you believe there to be anything unnatural about two men or two women loving each other?"

"No, Draco, I don't," said Aslan, having turned around to face him fully. "Love is love. If two people are lucky enough to find the one capable of winning their heart, then nothing else should matter."

"Thank you," said Draco, smiling sincerely at the Lion as He padded away, no doubt to converse with the Pevensies before they traveled to Cair Paravel to be crowned.

* * *

><p>The next day heralded the troops' arrival at the Pevensies' new home. Draco stared up in wonder at the palace that rivaled Hogwarts in elegance and grandeur. While everyone else made their way to the courtyard, the Pevensies and Draco took a detour to explore the beach. Letting go of the dictates of his social position for once, Draco kicked off his shoes and went racing through the waves and sand, not even caring that his clothes were getting dirty. He was having too much fun, a turn of phrase he never thought he would be applying to himself.<p>

Collapsing back on the ground, he stared up at the sun, which seemed to burn brighter in Narnia than in England, yet he found that he didn't fear its rays. "So, you're getting crowned later today," he commented, turning his head to face whoever was nearest, who just happened to be Susan.

"Yes, it's a bit unbelievable," she replied. "I mean, we're just kids. Yet we're being put in charge of an entire country. It's almost surreal. This kind of stuff only happens in fairytales."

"Nothing wrong with that," said Lucy, joining in the conversation. "Ever since I've learned to read, I always wished I could just soak up the words I read and transport myself into that world. And now look at us – we're going to be crowned kings and queens in a magical land that only _we_ know about. I, at least, am living my dream."

"I've always wanted to go on adventures like King Arthur and Lancelot," said Edmund, too content to bother opening his eyes. "I'd say that what we've accomplished so far is a good start to our reign."

Peter was the only one who had yet to speak. He stared ahead of him, his gaze transfixed on the gently rolling waves, dozens of emotions flashing across his eyes faster than anyone could track them.

"Pete?" asked Edmund cautiously, still wary around his brother, their bond still new and untested.

Peter seemed to sense his brother's unease, as he snapped out of his reverie and turned to smile gently at Edmund. "I'm fine, Ed," he replied, "Just . . . thinking."

"Anything you'd care to share with the rest of us?" asked Draco, hoping that he wasn't overstepping his boundaries.

"What if I'm a rubbish king?" Peter burst out. "Leading the army yesterday was purely a matter of luck, mostly because Aslan already had everything planned beforehand."

"Aslan isn't leaving you totally unprepared," Draco reasoned. "You'll have Oreius to guide you and teach you how to fight and plan battle strategies. Everyone's there to help. No one's going to sit idly by and let you flounder."

Peter sighed heavily. "I know. I guess I'm just nervous. While I've always been responsible for my family," and here he shot his siblings a friendly grin, "I've never been responsible for an entire country and its people. The idea that I hold that amount of power is a little overwhelming."

"That's understandable, and completely normal," Draco soothed. "No one's expecting perfection, though. You're going to make mistakes. But that's normal, too. What will matter is that you learn and move on. Don't let that power go to your head."

"Don't worry, Draco," Edmund piped up. "I'll keep him in line; we all will."

Everyone shared a laugh at Peter's expense, though the almost-High King was smiling, so his pride couldn't have been too badly bruised. Their attention was drawn to the cliffs above, and a figure they thought was Oreius.

"My kings, my queens," he called down to them. "It is time for you to be fitted for your coronation outfits."

The boys groaned, while the girls immediately leaped to their feet, excited to fulfill their fantasy of wearing a fancy dress fit for a princess – or a queen, in their case.

Draco meandered slowly after them, grateful to have been spared the torture of being measured for robes that he would only wear once. He explored, comparing the Cair to Hogwarts, and did his best to stay out of everyone's way until it was time for the ceremony.

As he joined the crowd in what he'd dubbed the Great Hall, Draco beamed at the sight of the Pevensies in their rich brocades, waiting to be seated on the four marble thrones behind them. Mr. Tumnus – Draco remember Lucy introducing them briefly – approached on shaky hooves, accompanied by the Beavers, who held the velvet pillows on which rested the new monarchs' crowns. After having placed each on their heads, Mr. Tumnus retreated, allowing for Aslan to speak:

"To the glistening eastern sea, I give you Queen Lucy the Valiant; to the great western wood, King Edmund the Just; to the radiant southern sun, Queen Susan the Gentle. And to the clear northern sky, I give you King Peter the Magnificent. Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen; may your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens."

Then, the cheering started. "Long live Queen Lucy! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Susan! Long live King Peter!"

Draco's voice soared above all the others, his pride in his friends' accomplishment unmistakable. He couldn't help but feel a bit melancholy, though, as he sensed that his departure from Narnia was eminent.

And he was right.

As Aslan moved to stand by his side, He murmured low in Draco's ear, "It is time."

"I understand, Aslan," said Draco. "Shall I tell the Pevensies, or will you?

"I will tell them where to gather," Aslan decided.

"Very well," Draco replied. He watched as Aslan approached the newly-crowned monarchs, speaking to them in low tones. They glanced his way, and Lucy's expression was almost heartbreaking. Draco was sure that he didn't look any better. Although he didn't want to leave Narnia or the Pevensies – and he was sure that Aslan would say there was always a choice that was his to choose whether to stay or go – he knew that he belonged at Hogwarts, where he could best serve Harry in his fight for freedom.

"You're leaving," Susan declared when they were in speaking distance.

"Yes, I am," he said, inclining his head in acknowledgement of her statement.

"Will you be back?" asked Lucy, tears already pooling in her eyes.

Draco knelt so that he was level with her, "Maybe. But even if you never see me again, I'll always be here." He placed his hand directly over her heart.

"I'll miss you, Draco," Lucy whimpered, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly. "We all will."

"I'll miss everyone, too," said Draco, returning the embrace as he smiled up at the rest of the Pevensies who were gathered around them. Only then did he notice that the Great Hall had been emptied. However, he chose not to comment on it. After all, monarchs or not, the Pevensies were only human and still deserved their privacy.

Releasing Lucy, Draco moved to embrace Susan, followed by Edmund, who he held very close for several moments, and lastly, Peter. Then, he turned to Aslan. He tried to find the words to speak but couldn't, so he settled for throwing himself at the Lion and twining his hands in Aslan's mane.

"You'll be watching over me, Aslan?" he asked tentatively, "Even when I'm no longer in this world, in Narnia?"

"Always, and forever," Aslan promised.

He breathed softly on Draco, who felt all his fears abruptly leave him. Armed with the courage and the fortitude to face whatever came, he turned to face the Pevensies for a final farewell. Too choked up to speak, they all settled for simply waving, and that seemed to be enough. With that, Draco turned and walked through a doorway that had appeared out of midair, and which he swore hadn't been there before. When he turned back around for a final look at the first people he had ever considered to be his friends, they were gone, and he appeared to be trapped in a cupboard. Rattling the door handle, he stumbled out and found himself back in the Room of Requirement.

Draco had returned to Hogwarts.


	5. Chapter 5

**And now we get to the Drarry goodness – finally! :)**

**This chapter was originally meant to be longer, and would have included a conversation between Draco, Ron, and Hermione (sans Harry, who would be occupied with getting the necessary memory from Slughorn), Harry and Draco's trip to the cave with Dumbledore (yes, Draco will be joining Harry on many of his adventures from here on out), and Dumbledore's funeral. However, my brain is fried from finals (I'm done, though. Hurray!). Never fear, though: all that I've mentioned will be in the next chapter, followed by Year 7 (which might be split into two chapters; we'll see how I'm feeling when I get there) and an epilogue. Happy reading!  
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* * *

><p>Draco quietly made his way back to the Slytherin common room, being careful not to wake his dorm mates as he got ready for bed. However, he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink. He needed to plan ahead as to how he would approach Harry the next day.<p>

By morning, Draco had an idea. It was brilliant in its simplicity. He would send Harry a note asking him to meet at a certain time and place, at which point Draco would say that he wanted his help in switching sides. If all else failed, then Draco would reveal to Harry the abuse he had suffered at the hands of the Death Eaters' in their attempts to "persuade" him to accept the Mark.

Draco's stomach was in knots all throughout breakfast as he waited for the morning post to be delivered. When he saw one of the school owls swoop low over Harry (he hadn't wanted to draw attention to their correspondence, after all, on the off chance that Voldemort had another spy in Hogwarts' midst) and drop a letter in his lap, Draco suddenly became _very_ interested in the food that was on his plate. His newfound focus didn't prevent him from feeling Harry's penetrating gaze practically burning him, and he found himself fighting the impulse to look up and make eye contact.

Somehow, Draco managed to avoid Harry for the rest of the day. He barely ate anything at dinner; his stomach was in knots again. He spent that evening in the library, staring at a book he didn't even know the name of and reading the same line over and over.

Finally, it was time for him to make his way to the Astronomy Tower, where he had arranged to meet Harry at ten o'clock. With shaking legs, Draco mounted the numerous stairs, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found that Harry wasn't there yet. He was staring out across the expansive grounds and wishing that he could fly – _really_ and _truly_ fly, without having to rely on a broom – when he heard a slight shuffling sound behind him and someone discreetly clearing their throat. He turned around and saw Harry shrewdly observing him, clearly apprehensive, but obviously open to whatever it was that Draco wanted to discuss.

Draco seemed to sway in place for a moment, before flinging himself at Harry's feet, landing rather painfully on his knees. "Help me," he whispered, "_Please_."

After only a moment's hesitation, Harry joined Draco on the cold hard stone, cradling the other boy to his chest. Though initially resistant to Harry's touch, Draco soon surrendered, realizing that Harry had been what he'd always missed.

"Talk to me," Harry whispered. "Tell me what's going on."

Though Draco knew that Harry's words weren't a direct order, he nevertheless felt compelled to obey. "I need to get out," he said. "Vol— You-Know-Who has ordered me to kill someone, but I can't do it. I'm scared, Harry. He's said if I don't do as he says, he'll kill my mother and force me to watch, and that then he'll kill _me_. I don't want to die!"

"I doubt that anyone does," Harry noted wryly. "Voldemort certainly doesn't."

Though he may have been pushing whatever boundaries he and Draco had only recently constructed by saying something so cryptic, Harry still felt that he could trust the Slytherin "Ice Prince," despite his reputation. Harry remembered seeing him that day in the bathroom – he'd been genuinely terrified, just as he was now. This wasn't an act to lure Harry into a false sense of security – this was real.

As though reading Harry's thoughts, Draco said, "I'm being sincere, Harry, I swear. I never wanted this – any of it. I was forced into _his_ ranks to pay off my father's debts and to make up for past mistakes. I can show you—"

And here, Draco pulled away and yanked off his shirt in one seamless motion, before he could give much thought to his actions. Harry was left gaping in shock at the sight of Draco's bare chest, which was littered with scars, some of which Harry had put there. He felt that old familiar twinge of guilt – as well as a sick fascination – at having marked someone else in the same way that he himself had been marked. He tentatively reached out a hand to trace over the physical reminder of their bathroom encounter before turning his attention to the other scars, some of which were thick and ropey, while others were thin and wiry. Draco simply closed his eyes and let Harry touch him, stunned at the utter tenderness he was being shown through the other boy's actions. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined this kind of reaction when he inevitably came to Harry and bared his soul. Rejection and mockery? Yes. But this . . .?

Unbidden, tears sprung to Draco's eyes and began tracking a path down his cheeks. "I never wanted to join _him_," he whispered. "And this was the price for my defiance," he finished, gesturing to his now-mutilated body.

While startled to discover that Draco was crying and feeling decidedly uncomfortable, considering that he didn't have a good track record when it came to the people around him being emotional, Harry felt obligated to help in some small way, even if it was simply holding Draco and allowing him to cry out his feelings, something that had often been denied to Harry himself while growing up with the Dursleys. His mind made up, Harry further wound his arms around Draco's waist and guided the lithe blond so that he was practically resting in Harry's lap.

"Shh . . ." he soothed. "Everything's going to be fine. We'll work something out."

When Draco's sobs finally subsided (at least somewhat), he managed to choke out, "Y-you mean . . . you'll h-help me?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "I've been waiting for this day a long time – I knew you'd come to me, eventually – and now that I have you, I'm never going to let you go back to that . . . _monster_. He's ruined enough lives. I won't let him ruin yours any further."

Draco collapsed back against Harry's chest, the other boy's impassioned speech having sent him into another bout of hysterical sobbing. "Thank you," he whispered over and over again. "I knew you would save me; I just couldn't have been wrong."

Harry held Draco close, surprisingly comfortable with their intimacy. He would examine what he felt regarding this development at a later time, when the situation was less emotionally charged. For now, though, he settled for whispering, "I've got you. You're safe now. Neither he or his cronies can touch you anymore."

Once Draco was reasonably calm, Harry dared to broach what would surely be a sensitive topic. "I think we should go see Dumbledore, and talk about how things are going to progress from here on out," he said haltingly. "Draco?" he asked, feeling the other boy tense within the sheltering embrace of his arms.

"I-I don't know if I can face him," Draco whimpered. "Dumbledore . . . Dumbledore is the one I'm supposed to kill."

"I kind of figured as much," Harry informed him.

"What?" Draco gasped, his head snapping up to meet Harry's gaze before lowering his eyes in shame, knowing as he did of the relationship that Harry shared with the headmaster.

"Hey, it's alright," said Harry, tilting Draco's chin up so that their eyes met once more. "All that matters now is that you're not going to do it. You aren't, are you?"

"God, no," Draco managed to breath out, suddenly finding himself entranced by Harry's emerald green orbs. Then, Harry shocked Draco by reaching out and wiping away his tears with the pads of his thumbs.

"It's alright," he whispered softly. "Come on; I'll take you to see Dumbledore now. It'll be fine, I promise."

And Draco believed him, as he'd never believed anyone else. Harry stood first – and Draco had to suppress a whimper at the loss of contact – before turning and offering Draco his hand. Draco stared from the hand up to Harry's face, having a sudden flashback to their first year, when he had offered his friendship along with a handshake and been rejected. His fear of that same rejection must have shown in his eyes, because Harry smiled gently at him and knelt down by his side again.

"I'll never let you go," he said, and Draco found that he couldn't look away from his eyes, which were shining with unshed tears (for _him_, Draco realized). Upon this revelation, Draco allowed Harry to haul him to his feet, though he refused to let go of his hand. They silently traversed the many corridors this way, hand in hand, before arriving at the stone staircase that led up to Dumbledore's office and was guarded by a gargoyle. Harry spoke the password, and it sprung aside to let them pass.

Draco shot Harry a look of sheer panic. "I-I can't do it; I'm sorry, Harry. I'll just run away and hide until you've won this war."

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco," Harry chided him. "Regulus Black deserted and was found in no time at all. You wouldn't be any different, I'm afraid to say. Besides, I'll need your Slytherin cunning if I expect to survive."

"Really? You'll need _me_?" Draco asked incredulously.

"I've always needed you," Harry confessed. "I just didn't realize it until this moment."

Harry's words seemed to bolster Draco's confidence. "Alright; let's do this," he said.

Gripping Draco's hand tightly in his, Harry led him up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on the door to Dumbledore's office, only for a voice inside to tell them to enter. Cautiously, Harry pushed the door open to find Dumbledore sitting expectantly at his desk, fully dressed despite the time of night.

"Harry, Draco – to what do I owe this pleasure?" asked Dumbledore, though both boys suspected that he already knew full well what they were there for.

"I-I have a confession to make, sir," Draco stuttered uncomfortably before Harry could open his mouth to speak for him. He had to do this alone; it was the only way he could ever hope to live with himself otherwise.

"If this is about your attempts to kill me on Voldemort's orders, then I already know," Dumbledore said calmly.

Draco stared from the ancient headmaster to Harry and back again. "Does everyone know what my mission was?" he asked exasperatedly, a note of hysteria entering his voice. Harry instinctively moved to embrace him, rubbing his back in an effort to calm him. Dumbledore observed the two of them, a bemused smile playing across his face.

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore, "Only myself, Professor Snape, and Mr. Potter are aware of what you were tasked with."

"I may have mentioned my suspicions to Ron and Hermione," Harry admitted sheepishly, "But they don't believe me."

"What happens now, sir?" asked Draco, gaze locked on the floor.

"Well, that all depends on you, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore.

Draco shuddered at being referred to as "Mr. Malfoy," an unpleasant reminder of his father and all that he had suffered at his hand. "Please, call me Draco," he whispered. "I don't want to be one of _them _anymore; I want to join you and Harry."

"Wonderful, my boy," said Dumbledore, beaming with pride at Draco's choice.

"We'll protect you, Draco," Harry whispered, sliding his hand into Draco's, who gripped back with a shocking intensity.

"My mother?" Draco inquired.

"I should be able to get her out, barring any unforeseen complications," said Dumbledore, "As for your father, I imagine that he's rather glad to be in Azkaban."

"He can rot there for all eternity," Draco spat out. "He ruined my life, and I don't want anything more to do with him."

"As you wish," Dumbledore inclined his head while discreetly observing Harry, who looked shocked at Draco's outburst.

Draco seemed to be swaying in place, similarly to when he'd thrown himself on Harry's mercy and awaited his judgment. Dumbledore silently conjured a plush chair for Draco to sink into, Harry coming to sit on the armrest.

"What happens now?" Draco asked at last.

"Now . . . I believe you should spend the night in the hospital wing," said Dumbledore, smiling in that gentle way of his that almost reduced Draco to tears. "You've been through a lot this evening. I will leave you and Mr. Potter to sort out the details of your new relationship."

Both boys flushed at his choice of words.

"Th-thank you, sir," Draco stammered, suddenly overcome and feeling so _weak_ that he thought he might burst into tears again. "And . . . I'm really sorry."

"I know you are, Draco," Dumbledore replied, eyeing him knowingly. "Off you go."

Harry tugged Draco to his feet and led him outside, an arm about his waist to guide him down the stairs and through the corridors on their way to the hospital wing. They weren't stopped, thankfully – neither boy knew what their explanation would be – and arrived without incident. Harry helped Draco into bed, but as he turned to leave, Draco's hand shot out to catch his wrist. "Stay . . . please?" he asked, so tentatively that Harry couldn't refuse. Slipping off his shoes, he crawled into bed with Draco, being sure to keep his distance. "Hold me," Draco murmured, and Harry complied, shifting so as to take the blond boy in his arms.

They fell asleep tangled up in each other, Draco's head resting on Harry's chest, and Harry's arms wrapping him up in warmth and security and love. From a distance, Draco thought he could hear the pleased roar of a lion. Then, he knew no more, welcoming the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

><p>"What the <em>hell<em> is going on here?"

Draco's head shot up in a panic at the enraged voice coming from above him. However, he didn't make it far, as Harry's arms were still pinning their bodies together. Turning his head slightly, Draco watched Harry's eyes slowly blink open, taking stock of their positions, before he smiled blearily at him.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi yourself," Draco replied, forgetting, for the moment, that there was someone nearby who could be either friend or foe.

"I said – what the _hell_ is going on here?" the same voice repeated.

"Ron?" Harry mumbled, reaching for his glasses and focusing on his two best friends who were standing at the foot of his and Draco's bed, " 'Mione?"

"Hi, Harry," she said brightly. "As Ron so eloquently put it, what the hell is going on? Why are you and _Malfoy_, of all people, sharing a bed – and in the hospital wing, no less? Has something happened? Was one of you hurt in some way?"

"Why are you asking after _Malfoy_?" Ron asked with a sneer. "It's _Harry_ I'm worried about. We've had our suspicions that Malfoy's up to something. I want to know what he did to get Harry in bed with him."

Harry was getting fed up with the fact that this conversation was about him, yet didn't include him. "Hello? I'm right here," he said, waving his hand to gain their attention. "I'll tell you everything, but you have to hear me out without interrupting. Think you can do that?"

Hermione and Ron nodded seriously.

"Alright," Harry nodded as well to steel himself for what was to come. He felt Draco grip his hand from underneath the covers, and it gave him the strength to go on. "The note I received at breakfast yesterday was from Draco. He asked me to meet him last night, and I did. Guys, he wants to join us. He's not siding with Voldemort – he's chosen _us_. After we'd talked for a little while, I took him to meet with Dumbledore, who suggested that I take Draco here."

"Alright, but that doesn't explain why you're in bed together," said Hermione reasonably.

"Neither of us wanted to be alone," said Harry simply, deciding in a split-second to keep Draco's moment of weakness, in which he'd practically begged for Harry to stay, a secret.

Ron was glowering, but as Hermione placed a hand on his arm, he seemed to soften somewhat. "I won't act thrilled that he's one of us now," he said. "But I'll try to accept him – for your sake, Harry."

"Thanks, mate," said Harry, choosing his words deliberately to let Ron know that nothing would change between them.

"Alright; I guess we'll see you later, then," said Ron.

"Yeah, sure," said Harry.

"Get some rest, Harry," said Hermione, bending over to kiss his forehead, "You too, Draco. Take care of yourselves."

"We will; thanks, 'Mione," said Harry, smiling tiredly up at her.

"Well, that went better than expected," Draco quipped after they had left.

"They'll come around," Harry assured him, "Hermione sooner than Ron, but it'll happen eventually."

"If you say so," said Draco, attempting to sound casual and failing spectacularly. He valued the opinion of Harry's friends _because_ they were his friends – his first friends – and Draco didn't want to come between that.

"Will you relax?" Harry chided him. "It's like what Ron said, however grudgingly: you're one of us now. The others are just going to have to accept that. And before you ask, I'm not choosing anyone over anyone else. This isn't about sides; it's about what's right."

"Thanks, Harry," said Draco as he subconsciously snuggled closer. "I needed to hear that."

Harry's arms tightened instinctively around the lithe blond who seemed to weigh less than nothing. "We should probably see about getting some food, as I imagine we've missed breakfast by now. I'm sure that if we went to the kitchens, though, that Dobby would be more than happy to supply us with something."

"Dobby? Is he still around?" Draco was surprised to hear that his family's old house elf had taken up residence at Hogwarts.

"Yeah, after I freed him in second year, Dumbledore offered him a position in the kitchens," said Harry.

"Wait, _you're_ the one who freed Dobby?" Draco was clutching his sides as he howled with laughter. "Oh, that's great. No wonder Lucius was so mad. It wasn't even because he'd lost his servant, but who had lost it for him." His laughter abruptly cut off as he remembered the end result of his father's rage: it had been painful to even _breathe_ in the following weeks. Draco hadn't cared, though, as long as Dobby was free. He'd always had a certain fondness for the elf, despite having been raised to treat him as vermin.

"You okay?" Harry inquired.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Draco replied, shrugging off the phantom pain, "Just thinking."

"Anything you'd care to share?" asked Harry.

"Not at this time," said Draco, appreciating Harry's concern, but as yet unwilling to fully bare his soul and appear vulnerable before the love of his life.

"Well, I'm here when you're ready," said Harry, squeezing his shoulder and making to get up. "Come on; we should go while we still have the chance, before anyone else descends on us."

"Good idea," said Draco, gracefully lowering his legs over the side of the bed and rising to his full height.

Their hands found each other again, fingers interlocking as they walked in silence down to the kitchens. Pausing before the fruit painting, Harry tickled the pear and motioned for Draco to enter first. Draco stood stock still as he was confronted by numerous elves bustling around. Tears suddenly filled his eyes as he thought about all that his family had put Dobby through during his years of service.

"Harry Potter, sir, what an honor!" exclaimed said elf.

"Hi, Dobby," Harry greeted him. "Draco and I missed breakfast and were wondering if you could help us out."

"Of course, sirs," said Dobby. "It's good to see Master Draco again."

"It's good to see you too, Dobby," Draco replied. "How have you been?"

"Much better," said Dobby, his eyes widening to comical proportions at Draco's concern. "Thank you for asking. And yourself?"

"As well as can be expected," said Draco bitterly, though he attempted to appear nonchalant.

"Has Master Lucius been practicing on you again?" asked Dobby shrewdly.

"Not lately," said Draco. "He's locked up in Azkaban. But You-Know-Who has taken over for him in the meantime."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," said Dobby, tears welling up in his eyes at the thought of his former master in pain.

"It's alright, Dobby. Harry's going to look after me now," said Draco, shooting Harry a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Looking inquisitively between the two boys, Dobby for once kept from stating the obvious. "I'll get right to work making your breakfast, sirs," he said, and darted away.

Harry led Draco over to sit at a table that the other elves had been clearing while he and Draco had been conversing with Dobby. Draco sighed in resignation, knowing that after _that_, Harry would surely want to talk. He would be right too.

"What was all that about?" asked Harry without preamble. "What did Dobby mean about Lucius "practicing" on you? Practicing what?"

"_Father_ has a penchant for torture," Draco replied with brutal honesty, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "And I was often his guinea pig."

Having expected Harry to recoil in shock and disgust, as that's what Draco himself would have done, he was pleasantly surprised when Harry moved to embrace him instead.

"He'll never touch you again," Harry vowed, refraining from asking what the torture Draco had undergone had entailed. If Draco wanted to tell him, then he would, simple as that. "I won't let him."

At that moment, Dobby arrived with breakfast, interrupting whatever their "moment" could have become. "Here you are, sirs," he chirped.

"Thanks, Dobby," they chorused, and began to eat with gusto.

Dobby had outdone himself, even by Draco's standards. There was fresh fruit to eat, and scrambled eggs, toast, sausages, and a multitude of pastries. Dobby had even provided both waffles and pancakes, including chocolate chip (Draco's favorite). And Harry and Draco ate it all. Draco fell to the food as though he hadn't eaten in days, and in Hogwarts time, he couldn't remember the last time he had. Harry watched him with concern, but managed to not say anything that might alarm the other boy or make him pull away, withdrawing into himself as he had already been doing that year. Draco could feel Harry's gaze on him, but ignored it in favor of food.

"Hey, Draco," said Harry casually, not willing to push the other away for the sake of having his question answered, "When I first showed up at the tower, why did you feel the need to grovel at my feet?"

Draco froze, his fork positioned halfway between his plate and his mouth. He knew why he'd done what Harry was asking him about, but he wasn't sure if Harry would believe his answer.

"Was it because of Voldemort?" asked Harry cautiously. "Is there some kind of ceremony when you meet him where you have to scrape and bow like that?

"There _is_ a ceremony where I have to do that stuff, but it wasn't because of Voldemort that I felt the need to grovel at your feet," Draco vehemently denied, shaking his head vigorously, "Although, if I had to bow to anyone, it would only ever be to you."

Harry sat in stunned silence at this revelation.

"I'm going to tell you something," said Draco shakily. He was going to do it – he was actually going to tell _Harry Potter_ the truth. "And you're going to think it sounds crazy and that I'm out of my mind. But I swear to you that everything I say from this moment on is the truth. Okay?"

Harry nodded wordlessly.

"My mission wasn't just to kill Dumbledore, but to arrange a way to transport other Death Eaters into Hogwarts as well. To do this, I had to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement; it has a twin in Knockturn Alley. In my attempts to fix the Cabinet, I tested it on an apple, two birds, and finally, myself. Only, when I went in, I wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. I was in a place called Narnia."

Draco chanced a glance up to see how Harry was handling what he'd shared so far. He looked at Draco with interest, signaling for him to continue.

"Anyway, I found myself in a snowy land, with no idea where I was or how to get back home to you. And then, wouldn't you know it, I found Narnia's equivalent of Voldemort: the White Witch. She called herself the Queen of Narnia, and had enchanted the land so that it was always winter, but never Christmas. Four other kids from England had also found their way into Narnia through a wardrobe, the Pevensies: Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy."

A tender smile played across Draco's face at the mention of the Pevensies, especially Lucy. Harry was fascinated at the complete turnabout he was witnessing in his former rival.

"Edmund had already been captured by the Witch. Well, he'd gone to her willingly, but soon saw the error of his ways. But that's another story. I was captured not long after. However, we were soon rescued by Aslan's forces. He's the High King over all kings in Narnia, and he's wonderful. When I was in his presence, I felt warm and safe and protected . . . and loved. He helped me to see the error of my own ways."

Draco bowed his head as he remembered the internal torment and anguish he had felt at having possibly let Aslan down, until he'd been told that he was loved and that he would always be forgiven. Even now, the recollection made Draco want to cry.

"I told Him everything about my life here," Draco went on, "And asked Him what I should do. He advised me to come to you, so I did, because His words should not be ignored. But I would have eventually come to you anyway because you make me feel as He did. And that's why I felt compelled to bow to you."

Finished with his story, Draco returned his gaze to the table and his plate, waiting for Harry to make the next move. He was visibly startled when Harry's hand moved to cover his own. Tentatively, he raised his head to meet Harry's eyes.

"I believe you," said Harry softly. "Thank you for telling me."

Draco returned Harry's smile, inclining his head in a show of respect for the other boy. "You're welcome, Harry. Thank you for hearing me out."

"If I may," Harry said after a moment's pause, "I'd like to apologize for what happened in the bathroom. If I'd known what that spell did, I never would have used it; you have to believe me."

"I do," Draco replied, squeezing Harry's hand reassuringly. "And your reaction – despite the end result – was perfectly justified. I was going to use an _Unforgiveable_ on you, Harry. There's no excuse for my behavior."

"You've been under a lot of pressure," said Harry lightly. "You were bound to crack sooner or later."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Draco morosely. "Harry, you don't think I'm weak, do you?"

"Not at all," Harry replied instantly. "I think you're very brave for having lasted as long as you have, and _especially_ for even considering switching sides."

"Thanks." Draco shot Harry a tremulous smile, slowly beginning to believe in his own worth once more. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for breaking your nose. What a rotten way to start your year."

Harry waved away Draco's apology. "All in the past," he said grandly. "Now, it's my turn. I'm going to tell you stuff that I've only ever told Ron and Hermione, because I trust you, and if you're going to be included in my circle of friends, then you'll need to know what's going on."

Draco nodded to show that he was listening, which encouraged Harry to reveal what he and others had been up to, including the prophecy and the memories that Dumbledore had been sharing with him in regards to Voldemort. By the time that Harry had finished, Draco could only stare at him, speechless, dumbfounded by the expectations that had been placed on this boy.

"_Neither can live while the other survives_ . . ." he whispered in horror, "Sweet Merlin, Harry. How can you keep going when such a burden rests on your shoulders?"

Harry shrugged, by now well-used to the weight he'd been forced to carry from a young age. "I dunno. I've just . . . adjusted, I guess. I've gotten used to it, and now the thought hardly phases me."

"It doesn't bother you that you might . . . _die_?" asked Draco, floored by this sudden insight into the boy he had always admired and envied in equal parts.

"I don't fear death, if that's what you're asking," said Harry. "I know what I have to do, and I'm going to do it. My life doesn't matter in the face of countless others who can and will suffer unless I defeat _him_."

"I don't fear death, either," Draco hastened to assure him, his seemingly long-ago conversation with Aslan ringing in his ears. "I just can't imagine a world in which you don't exist."

"Well, I'd rather you didn't write me off yet," said Harry, smiling gently at the blond to take the sting out of his words.

"I won't, Harry," said Draco.

They fell into an easy conversation after that, avoiding all talk about the upcoming war and the respective parts they had to play. No one had said that what was right would be easy, but Draco wouldn't have it any other way if it meant that he finally had a chance to be Harry Potter's friend.

The pair eventually wandered towards the library. Madam Pince nearly had a heart attack when the two former rivals walked through the door holding hands. If asked about their behavior, they would have said that they weren't even conscious of their hands finding each other – it just happened, similarly to their friendship, they would point out.

They stayed there for the rest of the day, and even discovered a collection of Muggle books that Dumbledore insisted on being available for those who wanted to immerse themselves in what was an unfamiliar culture for many. Harry and Draco had a lot of fun, each reading books they never had before: Draco, because he had never been exposed to anything Muggle-related; Harry, because the Dursleys' limitations on his education had extended to reading material as well.

"That's horrible!" Draco exclaimed when Harry told him.

Harry, though, just shrugged; he'd long ago accepted the Dursleys' hatred of all things magic, even if that included him. "In school, Dudley's imposed isolation left me free to spend lunch and recess in the library, so I read a lot then. I just couldn't take any books home with me. I managed to find ways around the Dursleys' rules, though, so it wasn't bad all the time."

"Were you ever caught?" asked Draco with morbid curiosity.

Harry shuddered. "Let's just say that it's a good thing that the Dursleys aren't magical. I'd take one of my uncle's beatings over being put under the Cruciatus curse any day."

Draco nodded along, at the same time as he was repulsed by Harry's treatment at the hands of his relatives. Of course, he wasn't one to speak, considering that his own father wasn't much better. He voiced this to Harry:

"My father wouldn't always curse me. Sometimes he'd use his fists or his cane, even. That was always preferable to when he would pick up his wand. With a beating, only one part of your body is in pain. With the Cruciatus curse, though, it's as if every nerve ending is on fire. No wonder people go mad as a result; I'm surprised I haven't by now."

"Who's to say you're sane?" Harry teased him. "You've sided with me, after all."

"Very funny, Potter," said Draco, shoving him lightly in retaliation, but he was smiling.

By now, it was early evening. If either boy were going to eat, which they hadn't done since breakfast, then they needed to make their way to the Great Hall, which they promptly did. A low murmur spread from the students to the staff at the sight of Harry and Draco not at each other's throats. Both boys paused at where they would have normally diverged to eat at separate tables.

"Uh, it's probably better if you sit with me tonight," Harry advised at seeing the murderous looks Draco's housemates were shooting him.

"Good idea," Draco nodded in agreement.

Harry led Draco over to join Ron and Hermione, who seemed to have talked things over and decided to give Draco a chance, if their relatively warm welcome was any indication.

Although conversation was stilted at first – Ron was still clearly mistrustful of Draco's intentions – Draco's natural charm, when he chose to employ it, soon won them over, and they were all talking and laughing like old friends, doing their best to ignore the incredulous stares being shot at them from all corners of the room. And for the newly dubbed Golden Quartet, this was easy to do, as all had had moments in the spotlight at one time or another, and had grown used to both receiving and disregarding whatever attention they were paid.

* * *

><p>After dinner, when it was clear that Harry and the others would retire to the Gryffindor common room, Draco was torn. He didn't want to impose on his newfound friendship with them, but he didn't want to be alone, either. After all, he had no idea what the Slytherins would do to him for his supposed betrayal. But was it really a betrayal when he had never wanted what his serpentine peers did? His internal debate was ended by Harry unexpectedly grabbing his hand and pulling him along behind Ron and Hermione.<p>

"Come on, Draco," he said beseechingly. "There's something I have to do tonight and I want you to be there with me."

"Does this have anything to do with retrieving that memory from Slughorn?" asked Draco in a low voice, careful to not attract any more attention than they already were simply by being in each other's company.

"Yes," Harry replied, somewhat excitedly. "I'm going to take the Felix Felicis, and see where that leads me."

"Huh," Draco grunted, "Best of luck to you."

"I won't need any," Harry beamed, "Not with Felix."

Harry's comment drew an amused snort from Draco, causing Ron and Hermione to turn back around to face them, having never heard Draco lose control like that.

"What?" he asked, as though daring them to make a comment about his past behavior. "I know how to laugh; I can have fun the same as anyone."

"Of course you can. We were just surprised," Hermione placated him. "You have a reputation for being Slytherin's "Ice Prince," after all. However, we apologize for making assumptions without getting to know you first."

Draco was suitably impressed at Hermione's speech. "I accept your apology," he said. "And I guess I can understand where you're coming from. We've never talked before this morning unless it was to trade insults. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too. I've already apologized to Harry, but I owe you two an apology as well. I really am sorry."

"We believe you," said Ron softly from where he'd been lurking in the shadows, waiting for the appropriate moment to speak. "And I'm sorry if I ever needlessly antagonized you. It's just . . . because of the bad blood between our families – no pun intended – trading insults and firing curses became like second nature to me, a habit I couldn't seem to break away from. Things will be different from now on, though. I can see how quickly you and Harry have become friends; good luck shaking him off. He'll never let you go now." Here, he shot Harry a reassuring grin to let him know that he was only kidding. "Seriously, though, when you're friends with Harry Potter, it's for life. Welcome to the trio. Although I suppose we're now a quartet," he mused.

"Thanks, Ron," said Draco, purposely using his given name to show his acceptance of Ron's apology and to let him know that he would also try to be better. Merlin knew that he wasn't blameless in his and Ron's ongoing feud.

Harry and Hermione shared proud smiles and a knowing look as they watched their two boys make amends for past wrongs. All was now well in the world of the Golden Quartet.


	6. Chapter 6

Safely ensconced in the Gryffindor common room away from prying eyes, Harry withdrew the vial of Felix Felicis and downed it in one gulp. Draco, Ron, and Hermione watched and waited for a sign that something had changed, that luck was taking over his destiny. Harry stood up and Draco made to join him.

"No, Dray, stay here," Harry directed. "I'm going to Hagrid's; I probably won't be back until late."

Then, he went out the portrait hole and was gone, leaving Draco alone in the company of Ron and Hermione. He turned hesitantly to face them, still not completely trusting in fate not to give him a lousy hand. Perhaps this was all an elaborate ruse of Harry's: lure him in with promises of protection, and then leave him at the mercy of his friends who hate his guts, letting them finish him off? No, that didn't sound like Harry. Still, one never knew who to trust in wartime . . .

"I'm sorry," he said, pressing his back up against the couch in an effort to escape.

"What for?" asked Ron, confused as always.

"We aren't going to hurt you," Hermione assured him. "We're your friends now."

That seemed to be the final straw for Draco. Loath as he was to show weakness to anyone – with the notable exception of Harry – he couldn't stop himself from breaking down. He let out low heart-wrenching sobs into the sofa cushions, chest heaving with the force of his crying.

"Draco?" asked Hermione, and Draco could sense her presence on the couch beside him, tentatively resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't deserve you, any of you," he whimpered, "Especially Harry. I'm a despicable human being."

"That's not true," Hermione protested. "You've made mistakes in the past, alright. But you've moved on; you've changed sides. You're fighting for the right to be free rather than live like a slave. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so," said Draco, sniffling slightly as he rubbed at his face, wiping away the tears that had run down his cheeks and dripped down his neck.

"Come here," Hermione ordered, and Draco was so used to hearing a command and obeying that he acted without thought. Luckily for him, he was too distraught to notice Hermione's momentary repulsion at his willingness to please her. What did he think she would do had he refused? Pushing such unpleasant thoughts from her mind for the time being, Hermione simply held Draco, cradling him to her chest like a child, and rocking back and forth. She was so caught up in comforting Draco that she didn't notice when Ron joined them. At feeling another set of arms join hers around Draco's lithe form, she looked up and smiled at the newcomer. Harry would be pleased that Ron was putting aside his former differences with the Slytherin Ice Prince to comfort him instead, and to make him feel better about himself.

"It's alright, Draco," said Ron, speaking up for the first time since they'd entered Gryffindor Tower. "If Harry thinks you're worthy, then you are; end of story. I never would have thought myself or my family deserving of his attention. I mean, he's this great hero, right? But then I met him, and really got to know him, and I realized that his fame doesn't matter to him. All he's ever wanted is a home and a family to love him. He's never had that growing up, and with the Dursleys as relatives, it's not surprising. Did you know that they kept him in a cupboard up until he got his Hogwarts letter?"

Draco abruptly sat up at hearing this revelation. He'd never entertained the idea that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was abused by his family. Draco had always assumed, as did most, that Harry Potter was pampered and spoiled, and that his relatives catered to his every need. Yet, hearing that this was not the case didn't change the way Draco viewed Harry at all. Rather, it made him love Harry all the more, for overcoming and being the kind and caring person he was, despite the abuse he had undergone.

Ron continued speaking, "Then, when Fred, George, and I went to rescue him before our second year, we found him in an upstairs bedroom with bars on his window, a cat flap for pushing food through, and a number of locks on the door. I shudder to think what he's suffered at their hands since then."

"I'm going with him," Draco rasped, his throat parched from lack of use due to his crying jag. "This summer, I'll stay with him and protect him. He already has enough to worry about while in our world."

"Good man," said Ron, clapping Draco on the shoulder. "Do you know why I told you all this? It's because _he_ never thought himself worthy of anyone else's love either. That's why his own love is so powerful, because it's given freely and _despite_ the circumstances that he comes from. Understand now?"

"Yeah, I think I do," Draco replied slowly, chancing a glance up at Ron and Hermione and daring to smile, albeit tentatively, at them. "Thank you."

"We're here for you, Draco," said Hermione, squeezing his shoulder gently, "As is Harry. We understand that you've been hurt. But we want to show you that there's still goodness and light in this world. Let us in, Draco; let us love you."

"Yes," Draco whispered fervently, his arms moving to wind about Ron and Hermione's waist of their own volition. "Yes."

When all three drew back, none of them had dry eyes, though Ron was blinking furiously as if to stave off any errant tears.

"Ron," said Draco, drawing their attention his way again, "I'm sorry for indirectly poisoning you. You were never the target; Dumbledore was. I didn't mean for you to get hurt. That wine was just another lame attempt to complete a task I hadn't asked for in the first place. You, unfortunately, got in the way, and for that, I humbly apologize."

Draco bowed his head in shame, sure now that both Ron and Hermione would retract their offer of friendship. He knew that Harry had told them of his suspicions regarding Draco's activities, and that he had probably been a prime suspect for both the cursed necklace and the wine. But that didn't mean that admitting to the truth was easy, or that the outcome would be ideal. In his addled state of mind, Draco thought that he wouldn't be surprised if Ron and Hermione took turns cursing him before letting Harry have a turn and then handing him over to Voldemort. He was as good as dead—

A pair of arms wound around Draco's waist, supporting his back. These were strong, muscular arms that had spent hours on a broom playing Quidditch. It was Ron holding him, and he wasn't mad.

"It's alright, Draco," said Ron. "Harry guessed as much. But thank you for confirming his suspicions."

"What are you going to do to me?" asked Draco nervously, still doubting his luck.

"Nothing," said Ron, shrugging, and Hermione smiled gently at him. "We're your friends now, and friends don't turn on each other.

Draco shuddered within their arms. Death Eaters didn't have friends, and if they sensed a weakness, they exploited it and attacked. Draco wouldn't be held and comforted had he just confessed to poisoning a member of the inner circle – or even the outer circle, for that matter. He would be tortured and then killed.

The portrait door swung open without any of them noticing. Suddenly, Harry's arms replaced those of Hermione and Ron's around Draco, who, at Harry's touch, curled into his side without a moment's hesitation.

"What happened?" asked Harry worriedly. When he'd left, Draco had been cautious but happy. Now, he was suffering a massive breakdown.

"I think he's a little overwhelmed," Hermione quietly informed him, uncomfortable to be talking about Draco as though he couldn't hear them, considering he was right there in Harry's lap.

Harry's hands ran up and down Draco's sides and over his back in a soothing motion. He even stroked Draco's hair. Eventually, Draco calmed down enough to look up at his new friends, who were gazing down at him with care and concern evident in their eyes.

"Sorry for worrying you," he muttered sheepishly. "What happened?" This he directed at Harry. "Did you get the memory?"

"Yeah, I got it," Harry said. "When Voldemort went to school here, he came to Horace Slughorn asking questions about a rare bit of magic: Horcruxes."

"Sweet Merlin," Draco exclaimed, shuddering within Harry's arms at the mention of the darkest and blackest magic known to mankind.

"Exactly," said Harry, shuddering himself. To Ron and Hermione, he explained Draco's reaction, "A Horcrux is an item that someone has concealed part of their soul in, and can only be achieved after having killed someone. Dumbledore believes that Voldemort created seven Horcruxes. Well, really only six, as the seventh piece of his soul still resides in his body. So, to kill him, I just have to find these six Horcruxes and destroy them before I face Voldemort. Only then will he be mortal again and capable of dying. As it is, if he dies now, his soul still exists and he would have to find another corporeal body to reside in."

Ron and Hermione's reaction was similar to Draco's. At hearing that Voldemort was essentially immortal, they clung to each other, shuddering at the notion that Voldemort could live forever unless these Horcruxes were destroyed.

"Luckily," Harry went on, "I've already destroyed one Horcrux: Tom Riddle's diary, in second year. Dumbledore has destroyed another: the Gaunt family ring. He's promised to let me know when he finds another and to take me with him."

"Well, you're not going alone," Draco declared. "Where you lead, I follow – I'm with you whatever happens, Harry Potter."

"Thanks, Dray," said Harry, squeezing his shoulder in gratitude. "Come on, guys. It's late, and I think we should all go to bed."

Draco tensed at hearing this. He doubted that he'd be welcome back in Slytherin House, but he didn't know where else to go. There was always the Room of Requirement, but that had only ever turned into the place where the Vanishing Cabinet was kept.

"Come on, Draco," said Harry, tugging on his hand to pull him upright. "If we hurry, we can get you into my bed before anyone else comes in. I know a spell that can muffle any noises you might make, so there's no reason for anyone to find out. And Ron certainly isn't going to tell, are you?"

"No, of course not," Ron replied, nodding his head in agreement with what Harry was saying.

Draco stared wide-eyed between them. "Thank you," he whispered, suddenly finding the floor to be very interesting.

"Good night, Draco," said Hermione, tilting his chin up and kissing him on the cheek. "Sleep well," she whispered, embracing him, then moving to wrap her arms around Ron and Harry before disappearing up the staircase to the girls' dormitories.

"Come on," Harry repeated, his hold on Draco's hand the only thing keeping the blond upright as he followed mindlessly, still stunned by this turn of events.

Once inside the sixth year Gryffindor boys' dormitories, Harry transfigured Draco's clothes into pajamas. He quickly disappeared into a side room and reappeared a few moments later in his own set of pajamas. Gesturing to his four-poster bed, he climbed in, Draco following hesitantly after.

Before pulling the curtains shut, Harry addressed his long-time best friend, "Good night, Ron."

Draco echoed his sentiments, "Good night, Ron. Thanks for listening and for being so understanding."

"You're welcome," Ron replied. "Good night, you two. Don't do anything that I wouldn't."

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, laughing. And with that, he pulled the curtains shut around him and Draco, and cast _Muffliato_ to provide them with some semblance of privacy.

Hermione had been right before, when she'd said that Draco was overwhelmed. There were so many thoughts running through his head that he didn't know how to give voice to them all. He wanted to thank Harry for his support, and that of his friends; he wanted to declare his love for Harry; he wanted to cry for Harry, his parents, himself. So that's what he did, gratefully melting against Harry, whose arms came to wrap around his waist, and crying into his shoulder, no doubt leaving a wet patch. But he couldn't bring himself to care at that moment. He would apologize in the morning, of course, but Harry would shrug it off and say it was nothing, done in the service of a friend. Draco would smile and they would troop downstairs to breakfast, accompanied by Ron and Hermione, all forgiven. It was the start of a new age, a golden time for Draco.

* * *

><p>When Draco first opened his eyes, he was confronted with red bed curtains. Startled, he tried to sit up but a pair of arms was wrapped securely around his waist. That's when his memories of the past two days came flooding back into his consciousness: writing to Harry, meeting on top of the Astronomy Tower, being taken to see Dumbledore, falling asleep with Harry in the hospital wing, spending the day in both Hogwarts' kitchens and the library, dinner with Ron and Hermione, talking with them while Harry was out retrieving a vital memory from Slughorn, crying into Harry's shoulder after being overcome by everything that had happened to him . . .<p>

By this time, Harry had woken up as well. He watched Draco with knowing eyes as he remembered. Harry knew well how memories could fade from sleep, only to return upon awaking. Often times, while living with the Dursleys, the only way he would manage to sleep was if he'd passed out from one of his uncle's beatings. He would wake up disoriented the following morning until memories of the previous night came back to him. Then, the process would repeat all over again: work by day, beaten by night.

"Hi," said Harry, drawing Draco from his reverie.

"Hi," he replied, breathless with anticipation and anxiety.

"How'd you sleep?" Harry inquired.

"I don't know when I've had a better night's rest," said Draco, smiling shyly at Harry.

"Same here," Harry revealed. "Wonder why that was?"

"I wonder . . ." Draco mused, tapping his chin as though actually considering his answer, when both boys' tones let them know full well that they "blamed" the other for their peaceful sleep.

"Good morning," said Ron, pulling aside Harry's bed curtains to reveal an empty dorm room. "The coast is clear, so I thought I'd make sure you two lovebirds got up in time for some breakfast."

"Thanks, Ron," said Harry, smiling gratefully at him. "We'll be right down."

"Okay, then. See you in a bit," he said, waving to them as he left to collect Hermione for their own breakfast.

After he had gone, Draco turned to Harry, a serious look on his face. "Harry," he began. "I can't keep sleeping with you like this. Ron already suspects something. What will the school think if we walk into breakfast together? I won't ruin your reputation by being seen associating with you. I should go."

"Now, wait just a minute, Draco," said Harry, holding his wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. Draco went limp, a tactic he'd learned as a Death Eater: better to accept his punishment with grace and dignity – and above all, silence – than to put up a fight; that way, it would be over soon and he'd be left to lick his wounds in private. Harry was startled by Draco's reaction. It was a tactic he knew well from his time with the Dursleys: don't fight and it'll be over soon; to cry was to be weak and only brought more pain. "I'm not going to hurt you, Draco," he said gently, guiding Draco to sit next to him on the bed. "I just want to talk."

Draco sat quietly, his shoulders hunched and his head tucked in to his chest in an effort to protect himself. "What do you want?" he whispered.

"For one thing, I'd like for you to look at me," said Harry.

Tentatively, Draco raised his head to meet Harry's gaze, and what he saw stunned him: there wasn't a hint of anger in Harry's eyes, or mistrust; only love and kindness and compassion. Draco closed his eyes for a moment to steel his emotions. Being with Harry, and accepted by his friends, had been nice while it lasted, but Draco wasn't meant to be happy. His only purpose in life, or so it seemed, was to suffer by failing: his mother, the Dark Lord, Harry, even Dumbledore. Not to mention Aslan. Sooner or later, Draco let everyone down, so it was better for Harry to let him go now before something bad happened.

"What's wrong, Draco?" asked Harry kindly, cupping Draco's chin in the palm of his hand and raising his head once more to look at him. Tenderly, Harry stroked his cheek; Draco leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of Harry's calluses against his skin. "I want to help, whatever's troubling you," Harry whispered. "Let me take care of you."

Draco shook his head, too scared to speak. What Harry was saying was too good to be true. Since when had anyone cared what happened to him? His father had left him at the mercy of Voldemort, and when his mother had tried to help him, they were both tortured. As for Aunt Bella, family ties meant nothing to her. All she cared about was power; it didn't matter who stood in her way. She felt nothing for Draco. So why would Harry be any different? What made him the exception to what everyone else had clearly already seen: that Draco was no good?

"You aren't a bad person, Draco," whispered Harry, as though he could read Draco's mind. "You're not a killer. All you've ever done is talk, and there's not been any lasting harm caused by that."

Harry's kindness was Draco's undoing, and he released all the pent-up emotions that he'd been hiding for as long as he could remember. Once again, he bared himself to Harry, sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder and leaving behind another wet patch. At such a sight, he snorted softly to himself. Had he ruined any of his father's clothes, he would surely have been beaten, for Lucius prided himself on his outward appearance above anything else. This thought sobered Draco, and immediately caused him to regain control of his emotions.

"Feel better?" asked Harry.

"Yes, thank you," Draco replied somewhat stiffly.

"Hey, what's wrong? You can tell me," Harry urged.

"You saw the . . . marks . . . on my body the other night?" asked Draco haltingly. "Well, not all of those came from Death Eaters or from Voldemort. My father created a fair few all on his own."

"I'm sorry, Draco," said Harry, wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulder in a show of solidarity. "My uncle is like Lucius, in that he has a penchant for his own brand of torture."

At this, Harry withdrew his arm and pulled off his nightshirt in one seamless motion. Draco stared unashamedly at Harry's naked chest, which was littered with countless scars and barely-healed welts. Tears pooled in his eyes and cascaded down his cheeks at the knowledge that his love had been beaten and tormented simply for existing (from what Ron had shared, the Durselys hated magic, and by extension, hated Harry as well). If Draco hadn't already vowed to accompany Harry to Privet Drive, his resolve would have been set at the sight of the abuse Harry had already suffered at the hands of his relatives. If Draco could relieve him of this burden, then he would do so and gladly.

"Come on," said Harry, patting Draco's knee reassuringly. "Enough talk of gloom and doom. Let's go have breakfast before Ron manages to eat everything in sight."

Having effectively broken the tension, Draco joined Harry in his laughter, and waited patiently for him to re-transfigure his sleep clothes into the regular Hogwarts attire. Grabbing Draco's hand, Harry led him through the common room, which was thankfully empty, and downstairs in the direction of the Great Hall. They again created a scene by arriving to breakfast hand in hand, rather than at each other's throats, but Harry ignored the attention in favor of looking for Hermione and Ron. He found them sitting with Ginny, Neville, and Luna, and led Draco over to them. Draco, for his part, held Harry's hand in a death grip, not so much out of fear of Neville and Luna, but of Ginny. He hadn't had much interaction with her, but that had partly been of his own doing. He'd never found the courage to face her after learning what his father did to her when she was only eleven years old.

As he and Harry drew closer, Draco broke away and approached Ginny all on his own. He fell to his knees so that they were roughly on level ground, with her only a few inches taller. Though he felt every eye in the Great Hall on him, he spoke only to the youngest Weasley:

"I know this comes years too late, and that I am not the one you should be hearing this from, but I want to humbly apologize for my father's actions concerning you and the diary of Tom Riddle. I would like to also apologize for any unseemly behavior I may have directed towards you over the years. And Neville, Luna – I include you in this part of my apology as well. I really am very sorry for my actions, and I beg your forgiveness from the bottom of my heart."

His apology finished, Draco bowed his head in deference to the trio's verdict. He knew he could have waited until Ginny, Neville, and Luna were alone – or that Harry could have arranged a private meeting – but as his actions where they were concerned had been carried out in public, it was only fitting that his apology be public as well. He didn't fear anyone's mockery, though, not now that he counted Harry Potter among his friends.

Speaking of Harry Potter, Draco could feel Harry's eyes on him, and he suddenly became fearful as to Harry's reaction concerning what he'd just done. Ginny seemed to notice this – shrewd little vixen that she was, bless her heart and soul – and waved Harry over.

"Harry," she said, "Please do something for your boy before he has a nervous breakdown. It's as though he thinks he's going to be in trouble with you for apologizing."

Draco thanked the Merlin that his head was lowered so that no one could see how his cheeks reddened at her statement. She'd never know how close to the truth she'd come!

"Draco," she continued, now addressing him, "There's nothing to apologize for. You are not responsible for your father's actions. And besides, I've moved on from that – mostly. As for your own actions, they were understandable considering the bad blood between our families. You were behaving as you'd been taught – and after all, we learn best by example. I realized this that day before my first year in Diagon Alley, when our fathers got into a fist fight. I don't blame you for anything, Draco, although I can't speak for Neville and Luna."

"I forgive you, Draco," said Neville. "If Harry says you're alright, then you are, and that's all there is to it."

Luna sat considering him. Finally, she spoke: "You had quite the infestation of Wrackspurts, Draco. I'm glad to see that you've got rid of them."

Having been so focused on Neville and Luna's words, Draco had failed to notice Ginny leave her seat until she was kneeling right in front of him. "You can get up now, Draco," she whispered, and held out her hand for him to take. He did so, and once he was upright, he moved to embrace her. They stood that way for several minutes. Ginny was the first to retreat, but she continued to hold Draco's hand and urged him to sit next to her, at which point she proceeded to fill his plate with food because he was entirely too much skin and bones for her taste.

"And why should I try to please you, Weasley?" he sneered teasingly at her.

"Because," she leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Being nice to me will score you points with Harry." Draco flushed, and she smiled triumphantly at him. "Eat up," she demanded.

The rest of the meal was spent in pleasant conversation with Harry and his group of friends. Ginny, especially, was most delightful. Draco felt that he would have a special friend in her, and if her behavior – leaning heavily on him, looping her arm through his – was any indication, then she felt the same. Draco didn't have many friends that he knew he could rely on, so he was grateful for those that he did have who would continue to stand by him through good times and bad.

* * *

><p>Over the course of the day, Draco got to know everyone better. After breakfast, they had all retreated to the Room of Requirement, where they proceeded to talk about more sensitive topics that weren't appropriate for the Great Hall. Draco shared his past with everyone, and accepted Ginny's weight as she threw herself on him and squeezed his neck very tightly. Neville was solemn but sympathetic, while Luna . . . well, Draco wasn't sure what she thought about anything, but he valued her opinion none the less.<p>

The room had provided them all with a facsimile of the Gryffindor common room. As such, there was a roaring fire blazing in the hearth. By early evening, it had dwindled so much so that the sconces lining the wall lit up automatically. It was due to the diminished flame, then, that the note Harry received was able to travel through the fireplace via the floo network. As there were no windows, using an owl to deliver any messages would have been impractical.

_Harry,_

_I've found one. Come to my office at once._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Since Ginny, Neville, and Luna had all been brought up to speed on what Harry was doing, his explanation regarding the headmaster's note was brief: clearly, Dumbledore had found another Horcrux and was fulfilling his promise of bringing Harry along.

"Be careful," they all cautioned him as he rose to leave.

"Aren't I always?" he threw back over his shoulder.

None were surprised when Draco made to join him. Jogging to catch up, not even Harry was surprised at his appearance by his side. All he did was smile and take Draco's hand. "It's going to be dangerous," he said.

"Voldemort is dark right down to his core," Draco proclaimed, "You're going to need someone along who knows his ways. I can take care of myself, Harry James."

"I've no doubt you can," said Harry, thoughtfully.

By this time, the two boys had reached the gargoyle guarding the staircase to Dumbledore's office. It sprung aside to let them pass after Harry spoke the password. Knocking smartly on the door, Dumbledore gave Harry leave to enter, obviously not expecting Draco to have accompanied him, if the widening of his eyes was any indication.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" he asked, being careful to address Draco by his given name, per his request the night before.

"I'm coming with you, of course," Draco declared haughtily. He wasn't about to let a manipulative old man prevent him from protecting the man he loved, not by a long shot.

"Harry, do you trust Draco with such sensitive information as this will require?" asked Dumbledore.

"My trust in Draco is implicit," said Harry firmly.

"Then take my hands," Dumbledore directed them.

Eyeing each other, Harry and Draco each took hold of one the headmaster's proffered arms and were immediately whisked away. When they landed, it was on a rock in the middle of the sea. A short distance away stood a cave. Without a moment's hesitation, the three of them dove in. When they reached the entrance, Dumbledore immediately began scouting for a way in.

"Ah," he exclaimed softly. "There must be a blood sacrifice. Voldemort would wish to weaken whoever sought to disturb this place."

When it appeared that Dumbledore would slice into his own hand, both Harry and Draco stepped forward to protest. With one look at Harry, Draco knew what he had to do.

"Here," he said, holding out his own hand. "Use my blood. You and Harry are too valuable to damage."

Dumbledore eyed him shrewdly. Not daring to meet Harry's gaze, Draco stared resolutely at the knife as it sliced into the palm of his hand. Determined not even to flinch, Draco closed his eyes at the last minute. However, he could still feel the blood oozing from the wound. Dumbledore led him over to the cave wall and held his hand up, spreading the blood on the stone. Draco's sacrifice was rewarded by the entrance becoming visible. Harry was by his side in a moment and had healed the cut on his hand.

"Thanks," Draco whispered, smiling gratefully at his savior.

Harry glared at him, though his lips twitched as he tried to replace his inherent gentleness with sternness. "Don't do that again," he ordered. Draco shivered at the power emanating from him in those four simple little words. Harry seemed to sense his unease, for a look of contrition was immediately apparent on his face. "I'm sorry," he said, resolutely ignoring Dumbledore's presence. "I just don't want to see you hurt."

"And I don't want to see you dead," Draco snapped back, some of the old fire returning to his voice. However, a moment later he had returned to the submissive young man that his father and Voldemort had created. "I'm here to serve _you_," he whispered, "whether that means spilling my own blood or dying in your place."

Harry shuddered at Draco's choice of words. He didn't want to be anyone's master, which was what Draco seemed to be making him out to be. However, that would be a conversation for a later time. "Let's just get the Horcrux and get out of here," said Harry tersely.

"This way," Dumbledore directed, guiding the two boys into a cavern. A seemingly endless lake stretched out before them. "There should be a boat," Dumbledore murmured, as if talking to himself. "Ah!" he exclaimed. With a wave of his hand, a boat appeared from the bottomless depths, attached to the shore by a chain. Wordlessly, Harry picked up the chain and began to tug. Draco fell in behind Harry and pulled as well. Together, they managed to get the boat close enough so that they could step in. "After you, Harry, Draco," said Dumbledore, gallantly.

Once they were all in, the boat set off for a distant island, upon which stood a pedestal, of sorts. They piled out and gathered around what appeared to be a bowl filled with liquid. Something was at the bottom – the Horcrux, surely.

"I think it'll have to be drunk," said Dumbledore. "Harry, Draco, no matter what happens, no matter what I might say, make sure that I keep drinking. It may cause me unbearable pain; I may beg for you to kill me. Don't listen to a word I say; spoon-feed me the potion if you have to; just make sure that I drink it all."

"Yes, Headmaster," they chorused.

With trepidation, Dumbledore began to slowly drink, spoonful by spoonful. True to his word, he begged for the pain to stop. He began mumbling nonsense. Harry and Draco were helpless; they couldn't do anything for him but continue to give him the potion. When at last it had all been drunk, Dumbledore begged for some water. When none could remain in what was obviously an enchanted bowl, Harry dipped the ladle into the lake, which awoke the bodies that had been resting peacefully.

"What are they?" Harry murmured.

"Inferi," Draco spat out, horrified by Voldemort's ingenuity. Catching Harry's eye, Draco huffed in exasperation, "I was raised Dark, Harry. Of course I'm going to know what they are. Confringo," he yelled to frighten them off.

The flames seemed to do the trick as the Inferi quickly retreated, leaving Harry and Draco to collect Dumbledore and help him into the boat. They rowed for the opposite shore and hurried outside, at which point they apparated away, landing on the Astronomy Tower. Apparently, just being in Dumbledore's presence while apparating was enough to lower the wards and allow them safe passage to and from Hogwarts.

"Get Severus," Dumbledore whispered weakly. He was fast losing strength.

As Harry and Draco turned to do as he said, they heard hurried footsteps coming up the stairs. Dumbledore motioned for Harry to take out his invisibility cloak and to cover both himself and Draco. Once that was done, Dumbledore froze them in place so that they couldn't interfere.

Helpless, Harry and Draco could only watch with growing dread and horror as Snape appeared, wand trained on Dumbledore, followed closely by Bellatrix and a few other Death Eaters, including Greyback. In the end, it was simple: just two words and the great Albus Dumbledore fell, dead before he even hit the ground. With his death, the spell on Harry and Draco was released. Though Draco knew that Harry was mad, he sensed that not all was as it appeared.

"Harry, listen," he spoke fast, restraining the raven-haired wizard to prevent him from running after Snape and killing him in cold blood, "I think that Snape is a double agent and that Dumbledore's death was planned between them. It all fits, don't you see? Snape arrives up here at almost the exact same moment that we do; Dumbledore must have had some way of contacting him. Conversely, Snape must have also been selected to complete my task should I fail. And considering that I defected . . ." Draco let his voice trail off to give Harry the opportunity to consider his words. He could feel the moment that Harry gave in, as he went limp in Draco's arms.

Numbly, they made their way to the base of the tower where Dumbledore lay in a crumpled heap. Students and staff alike had already gathered to mourn the fallen hero. At catching sight of Harry and Draco, Ginny ran up to them, surprisingly moving to embrace Draco first.

"Thank the Merlin you're alright," she murmured in his ear before wrapping her arms around Harry.

* * *

><p>The funeral was scheduled for the end of the school year so that those students who wished to could remain to pay their final respects. The ceremony passed by in a blur for Harry, who looked to Draco for strength. The blond sat stoically, holding Harry's hand and allowing Ginny to stain his dress robes with her tears. Finally, they were released to mingle and commiserate together.<p>

"Ginny," Harry pulled her aside. "I wanted to tell you that I won't be coming back next year. Dumbledore left me a mission and I aim to finish what he started. I know that we've gotten closer lately, but you can't come with me. It'll be too dangerous. I know I won't be able to talk Ron and Hermione out of coming, and though I'll do my best to make Draco see reason, I doubt if he can be persuaded to let me go either. If I could, I would take you, as well as Neville and Luna, along with me; I'm going to need all the help I can get. But it's too risky to bring that many people along; we'd attract attention. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I understand," Ginny replied, smiling sadly up at him. "It's one of the reasons why I like you – always looking out for others before yourself." She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. With a gentle wave, she departed, pausing briefly to speak with Draco. "Be careful, both of you," she cautioned.

"Always," he replied, ducking down to kiss her cheek before joining Harry. "Don't even think about talking me out of coming with you," he said, not daring to meet Harry's eyes. If he did, he'd lose his nerve. "And what's more, I'm coming with you to the Dursleys, as well."

Harry sighed. He'd known it was too much to hope that Draco could be convinced to stay behind. After all, he wasn't the type to wait patiently at home for the fighting to stop; he'd be right there in the thick of it all, watching Harry's back and ensuring Harry's victory, even at the cost of his own life. And wasn't that a sobering thought?

"I just don't want this to become _your_ funeral," he said softly, hoping that Draco realized that he wasn't being overprotective – he just cared.

"Why worry when I know I'll have you watching my back?" Draco joked, daring to place his arm around Harry's shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze. "You won't be able to be everywhere at once, you know," he advised him. "Eventually, you have to trust that others can take care of themselves."

"I know," Harry sighed, leaning his head against Draco's shoulder and staring out over the Hogwarts grounds. In the distance, he saw Fawkes flying away. "Everything's going to change now, isn't it?" he murmured, almost to himself.

"Yes," Draco replied simply.

The two stood in companionable silence as they contemplated the future. One thing they knew for sure, though, was that they would always look out for each other. The former rivals had become the best of friends, and were possibly on the way to becoming more. Only time would tell.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been less than a week, and Harry and Draco were already plotting their escape from Privet Drive. Draco was hard-pressed to choose which was worst: his "home" or Harry's. Though the Dursleys had yet to lay a hand on him – and Draco suspected Harry's involvement where his safety was concerned – that hadn't kept them from beating up on Harry. Draco healed him the best he could without the aid of magic – since Harry was the only "registered" wizard living at Privet Drive, Draco, despite being able to legally use magic outside of Hogwarts, would have attracted too much unwanted attention – but there was only so much he could do. At night, while Harry lay in bed asleep – though he had offered the bed to Draco, who was his guest, Draco had flat out refused, insisting that Harry needed it more than he did and that he could get by on the floor – Draco lay awake plotting ways to put himself in the line of fire and take the heat off of Harry. At the rate things were going, there wouldn't be anything left of Harry to rescue whenever the Order planned to act.

Draco turned on his side to find Harry tossing and turning in his sleep. Vernon's latest beating had been particularly unpleasant, so it was no wonder that Harry was having a hard time finding a comfortable position to lay in. He was whimpering, and Draco leaned closer to try to hear what he was saying.

"Please, not Draco," Harry was saying. "Take me; hurt me instead."

Stunned by what he had heard, Draco lay frozen for a minute. There were only two possibilities as to what Harry could be dreaming about: either Voldemort had him, or Vernon was threatening him. To calm Harry, and to prevent him from alerting his relatives – Draco still shuddered at the thought of one of Vernon's midnight "visits" when Harry had woken up the whole house with his yelling from some nightmare or other – Draco carefully climbed into the bed behind Harry and held him in his arms, pinning Harry to his chest. Although Draco knew he was surely overstepping some boundary or other, he was willing to risk being punished to be close to the boy he loved. Contrary to what Draco had expected him to do, Harry subconsciously curled in closer to him, nestling his head in the crook of Draco's neck and sighing contentedly. Draco smiled back, and dared to press a kiss to Harry's forehead, directly over his distinctive lightning bolt scar. With that, the two boys fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

When Harry woke in the morning, it was to discover Draco pressed up against his back. Though the feeling was not unpleasant – as a matter of fact, Harry could have stayed in Draco's embrace all day – Harry had work to do if either of them expected to eat and remain reasonably healthy until the Order could get to them.

"Draco," Harry whispered, turning within Draco's arms to gently shake him awake. "Dray," he whispered again, slightly louder. "I have to get up. There's work that needs to be done."

Draco moaned as he slowly woke up. He'd been having the best dream he could ever remember having: he'd been holding Harry in his arms – they were asleep together – and Harry was actually enjoying being held by him. Draco sat up abruptly when he felt something move beside him; he was instantly awake, as though someone had doused him in cold water. He turned his head and was met by a pair of emerald-green orbs. With a startled yelp, he fell off the bed and scooted backwards on his hands and feet to the opposite side of the room where his single blanket and flattened pillow lay discarded.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, holding his hands up in surrender, as though to shield his face from the blows he seemed expect.

Inwardly, Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. He'd thought that he and Draco had been making progress. He understood that Draco still had memories of his time with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and that he still retained some of the behavior he had adopted to placate them. But at the same time, Harry thought that Draco would have realized by now that he wasn't going to hurt him. They were friends, after all.

"Draco, it's okay; I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, lowering himself on to the floor so as to be level with Draco and extending an arm in his direction. On his hands and knees, Harry slowly approached where Draco sat cowering in the corner, until he was close enough to touch the trembling young man. However, he held back, wary of frightening Draco further.

"BOY!"

They were interrupted by Vernon yelling for Harry.

"We'll talk later," Harry promised Draco, who shivered in anticipation, taking Harry's words as a threat rather than the assurance they were meant as. His action did not go unnoticed by Harry, who vowed to put more work into convincing Draco that he didn't mean him any harm; he only wanted to love him and take care of him.

Draco remained frozen in place long after Harry had left. He didn't know what had come over him, overstepping the boundaries separating him and Harry as he had. But whatever the consequences, he couldn't regret his actions. Though reason told him that he and Harry could never be together – circumstances being what they were and all – Draco couldn't help but dream of a future in which he and Harry were a couple. He loved Harry; he really did. Though some would scoff and others would laugh at the idea of a Malfoy possessing a heart – not to mention freely giving that heart away – Draco knew that Harry held his in the palm of his hands. And that's why he was willing to submit to whatever Harry asked – or demanded – of him, without uttering a complaint, because he loved him.

Harry returned briefly, long enough to serve Draco breakfast, of which he'd managed to save a little out of the pittance the Dursleys allotted them both. Thankfully, Harry had sent Hedwig to stay with the Weasleys, so he didn't have to worry about feeding her as well. There wasn't time enough to talk about Draco's behavior from that morning, but Harry's eyes promised that they would be having a long discussion later that night. Although, logically, Draco knew that he had nothing to fear from Harry – the boy obviously cared for him and thus would never hurt him – Draco couldn't stop his mind from returning to the countless "sessions" during which he had been put under the Cruciatus Curse, and countless others, to convince him to swear allegiance to Lord Voldemort and to accept the Dark Mark. While Draco knew that neither of them could use magic while at the Dursleys, that didn't mean that Harry didn't have other "methods of persuasion" at his disposal. After all, Draco's own father had favored his belt on occasion. What was to keep Harry from doing the same? Draco shook his head to clear it of such dismal thoughts. Harry was too kind and good to hurt him in such a way; he wouldn't lay a hand on him unless Draco requested it.

Though Draco was bored staying inside all day, he honored Harry's request that he stay out of sight – and, therefore, out of mind – away from the Dursleys. As Harry was only thinking of his best interests, Draco had no problem acting as Harry wished. What he didn't know was that Harry wanted him to fight back, like he used to when they were younger. Harry had loved baiting Draco into arguing with him, and wanted to see some of that fire again. But Voldemort, Lucius, and the rest of the Death Eaters had extinguished Draco's flame, and Harry was at a loss as to how to reignite it. Harry knew that he was strong enough to take care of both of them where the Dursleys were concerned – he would take a beating for Draco's sake any day – and he wouldn't have minded some company as he completed the mindless chores that the Dursleys assigned to him. But Draco stayed quietly shut up in Dudley's second bedroom, waiting for Harry to come to him.

That night, Harry dragged himself upstairs to take a quick shower – the Dursleys only gave him and Draco a few minutes, at most, to take care of their bodily needs; at all other times they were locked inside their room, except when Harry was out doing his chores – before letting himself in, placing a plate that was less than a quarter full at Draco's feet.

"Sorry there's not more, but you know what _they're_ like," he said.

"Yes, I know all too well," Draco replied, grimacing as he recalled the first time Harry had come to him beaten and bloody. He would have left the sanctuary of their room and called the Dursleys out on the treatment of their nephew had it not been for Harry himself, whose injuries had needed immediate attention.

Draco ate in silence, slightly tense as he waited for Harry to start what was sure to be a painful discussion. Why couldn't he make Harry understand that being submissive was all he felt comfortable with anymore? He didn't know how to be that arrogant cocky little boy that had first caught Harry's eye, and he didn't trust others' reactions to that same attitude. He just wanted to be safe and loved – by Harry, if he had his way.

"I wish you'd relax around me," Harry said at last. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know that," Draco whispered.

"Well, you certainly don't act like it," Harry snapped.

"I don't know how to act anymore," confessed Draco as he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. "I've been beaten so much that I've come to expect it from _everybody_, even those who I know would never lay a hand on me without first asking."

"Are you saying you actually _like_ being roughed up?" asked Harry in bewilderment.

"All I'm saying is that I've grown used to it," Draco explained, "And with the right person, I might come to enjoy a little pain mixed with pleasure."

Harry sat observing Draco for several minutes. In this single conversation, he'd learned more about his former rival than he'd ever known before. One thing that he hadn't expected was for Draco to be a masochist. He'd always pegged him as being a sadist. But, Harry supposed, that description seemed to better fit what he knew of Lucius's character than it did Draco's.

"So what happened this morning?" asked Harry, bringing the conversation back around to his original purpose.

"I heard you having a nightmare," said Draco. "So I got into bed in the hopes that my being near would calm you down. I meant to leave after you'd quieted, but I must have fallen asleep. Then when I woke up, I was startled to find you so close to me, as I'd forgotten what I'd done the previous night. I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries—"

"Hush," Harry ordered, interrupting whatever Draco had been about to say. He heard Draco's jaw snap shut, and he set about to alleviate his fears. "I liked having you close to me like that. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask if you would continue sleeping with me. I think having you near really does help."

"You're serious?" Draco was flabbergasted. Here he was expecting to be punished and Harry was asking if he'd continue to sleep in the same bed as him. "Sure, I'd love to."

"Great, then it's all settled." Harry beamed at him, and his joy was so infectious that Draco couldn't resist smiling back.

The two then got ready for bed. Harry climbed in first and held back the covers, gesturing for Draco to join him. He cautiously did so, tensing his muscles until Harry took him in his arms and began stroking his hair, a method that never failed to calm Draco down. They fell asleep tangled up in each other, and both would agree that this was how it should always be: just the two of them, without the threat of a Dark Lord or abusive relatives hanging over their heads.

* * *

><p>The rest of the month passed in a similar manner: Harry would get up to work in the morning, leaving Draco behind; Draco would spend the day entertaining himself with thoughts of happy endings for him and Harry; the evening would be spent talking about anything and everything; they would then get ready for bed and fall into a light slumber, always on alert for danger, either from Harry's relatives or from Voldemort himself.<p>

Harry's birthday finally drew near, and with it, the two young men's chances to leave Privet Drive behind once and for all.

On the night in question, various members of the Order arrived, including Ron and Hermione. Draco was just as glad to see them as Harry was, for they were the first people besides Harry who had accepted his change of heart and welcomed him to their circle of friends. Mad-Eye Moody, who Draco had mixed feelings about – not the least because the fake Moody had turned him into a ferret – explained to the Dursleys that it would be in their best interests to leave while they still could, otherwise Voldemort might use them to get to Harry. Harry, Draco, and the Dursleys all snorted at the notion that Harry would come to the Dursleys rescue were Voldemort to capture them. Ron and Hermione eyed them speculatively, but decided that after a little over a month spent in such repulsive company, they were entitled to be cynical.

The Dursleys quickly packed what they could fit in their single car. Harry and Draco stood in the hallway watching them leave. Petunia and Dudley passed by without comment; Vernon moved to "gift" Harry with a parting punch, but Draco got in the way, finally repaying Harry's kindness in some small way, even if it was by taking a blow in his place. Moody roughly shoved Vernon along, telling him to be on his way, before turning to face the two young men. Harry had Draco's face between his hands and was examining the bruise that was quickly forming around his eye. Draco tried to shake Harry off, but Harry wouldn't be dissuaded.

"I've had years of experience with _dear_ Uncle Vernon," said Harry, he and Draco sharing a look the others couldn't interpret. "Be thankful he didn't put all of his force behind his fist."

"Enough of this sentimentality," said Moody gruffly, who pretended not to notice as Harry planted a quick kiss over Draco's injured eye. "I need to explain how we're getting you out of here."

Harry and Draco joined the others in the living room, standing close enough to hold hands had they so wished. Hermione and Ron had linked hands; Harry eyed them shrewdly, before motioning that they would talk later. Hermione signed the same back to him, moving her eyes rapidly between his and Draco's bodies, which would occasionally brush against each other. Draco seemed hyper-aware of their close proximity, jumping at the slightest touch, while Harry was almost pleased, if Hermione had to guess at his emotions.

As expected, Harry was horrified to hear that his friends had actually volunteered to put themselves in harm's way to ensure that he got to the Burrow safely. Hermione stepped forward and yanked out a few strands of Harry's hair. As she had also predicted, Draco joined the group preparing to take Polyjuice Potion, ignoring Harry's look of alarm and his attempts to keep Draco by his side.

Moments before taking the potion, Draco surged forward suddenly and captured Harry's lips in a bruising kiss. "I love you, Harry," he whispered intently. "Always have; always will."

"I know," Harry replied. "I love you, too, Draco."

Their eyes never leaving each other, Draco swallowed the vile concoction in a one gulp, grimacing as it hit the back of his throat. "How did you ever manage to take this when you were only in your second year?" he rasped.

"It wasn't easy," said Harry with a laugh.

Harry and Draco's playful banter was interrupted by a series of gasps as the effects of the Polyjuice Potion set in.

"Bloody hell, mate; what happened?" exclaimed Ron.

"Why? What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Harry, you've been hurt," Hermione explained.

"Well, of course I was. You can't spend over a month around Uncle Vernon and expect to come out unscathed," said Harry.

"Why didn't you tell any of us?" asked either Fred or George. "We would have taken you in, and gladly."

"Thanks, guys." Harry smiled at who he thought were the twins. "I just didn't want to worry anyone, that's all."

"We can discuss Potter's home life when we've arrived at the safe house," Moody interjected. "Malfoy, you're with me."

"Of course I am," Draco muttered under his breath. "The name's actually "Draco," sir," he said.

"Fine; Draco, with me," said Moody. "Everyone, stick with your partner and don't stop for anything, no matter what happens."

Time seemed to speed up after that. Harry and Draco didn't even have a chance to properly say goodbye before each was up in the air; Harry was with Hagrid and Draco was with Moody. As it turned out, Moody was right to be paranoid: Death Eaters were waiting for them and the Order's rescue soon turned into a fast and furious chase. Draco lost sight of Harry; he wasn't worried, though, he knew that Harry could take care of both himself and Hagrid, not to mention that Draco would surely feel something were Harry to die or be hurt. Draco didn't have any more time to think about Harry, though; he was forced into fighting for his own life, and that of Moody's. Any spell that came to mind, Draco used without hesitation. To falter could be the difference between life and death. With their combined efforts, Moody and Draco made it safely away.

Draco tumbled to the ground outside the Burrow – the potion must have worn off at some point, because he looked like himself again – and was met by both Harry and Ginny, who immediately assaulted Draco, wrapping their arms tightly around him.

"Can't – breathe –" he gasped.

"Thank the Merlin you're alright," Harry murmured, before brushing their lips together.

Draco responded enthusiastically to the kiss, moving closer to Harry so that their bodies were aligned, and sucking lightly on Harry's bottom lip in a silent plea for entrance, which Harry gladly granted. Tongues darted out to explore new territory, and Draco thought he would explode from the sheer pleasure of kissing Harry. He could feel his blood running both hot and cold out of excitement coupled with fear; his stomach was coiled in tight knots of anticipation; and he saw stars behind his eyelids. When they finally pulled away, Draco couldn't find the words to speak; all he could do was stare. Harry leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. When that wasn't enough, he brought his arms around Draco and guided the taller boy's head down to rest on his shoulder. They clung to each other as they would to a life line, which was very near the truth, as far as Draco was concerned.

Throughout this entire exhibition, Ginny stood with her arms crossed, an amused smile playing across her face as she wondered when Harry and Draco would finally come up for air. When they eventually drew apart, and then held on to each other as if they were trying to become the same person, so desperate to be close to one another, she smiled tenderly at the myriad of emotions playing across their faces. Though she had yet to find that special somebody who would set her heart racing and her blood pumping, she hoped that he – or she; Ginny was an open-minded witch, after all – would look at her the same way that Harry and Draco looked at each other. That was true love, right there.

"I'm so happy for you both," she said, speaking for the first time since Draco's arrival.

"Ginny," they both exclaimed, and opened their arms to welcome her to their circle of love.

The trio simultaneously retreated, and Ginny took a moment to observe the two boys. They were both entirely too skinny – of course, that was to be expected coming from the Dursleys; every summer that Harry had spent with her family, he had always eaten several portions of her mother's cooking for at least the first week; she'd noted how he fell to the food as though he were starving; clearly, he had been, and so had Draco by the look of things – and their manner appeared to have changed. Harry and Draco held themselves differently. Of course, following his change in allegiance, Draco had lost his arrogant façade in favor of hardly speaking at all. But he and Harry seemed to have come to an agreement, of sorts. Draco hung back, all while not appearing to, choosing to let Harry take the lead whereas before he would have fought tooth and nail to be hailed as the leader. Harry seemed more confident in himself. Whatever had happened between him and Draco had changed his outlook on life.

Ginny had no more time to ponder these changes before her mother came bustling outside to embrace the boys and welcome them home. All four trooped inside where they waited for the others to arrive. Thankfully, everyone showed up on time and with no losses: the Order had successfully completed their mission.

* * *

><p>The Burrow's inhabitants soon settled into a routine as preparations for Bill and Fleur's wedding proceeded without a hitch. Molly Weasley worked hard at keeping Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione occupied with different tasks so that they had no chance to talk about when or how they would leave, or even where they would go next. However, Ginny proved a valuable asset by relaying messages between the quartet, and luckily, Molly never suspected that Harry or any of the others would have let her youngest and only daughter in on whatever they were up to.<p>

Leading up to the wedding, Harry attempted to talk Ron, Hermione, and Draco out of coming along, but was quickly shot down when Hermione explained the lengths she had gone to protect her parents to ensure that she could actually come along, and Ron showed him the ghoul that normally lived up in the attic but would take over Ron's room and pretend to be him, thus allowing Ron to leave undetected. Draco was the most passionate in his refusal to let Harry go alone. As it was the most fire Harry had seen in Draco since before their reconciliation, he surprised all those present by launching himself at Draco and firmly attaching their lips together. This prompted Ron and Hermione to share a simple peck, which Harry and Draco were quick to tease them about.

Following Harry's safe arrival at the Burrow, Ron and Hermione had taken him and Draco aside and shared with them the news that they were now together. Harry's only response had been to exclaim, "Finally!" and congratulate both parties on what had been a long time coming, as predicted by him and practically everyone else at Hogwarts. Since then, the jokes had hardly ever stopped, certainly not where the twins were concerned.

The day of Harry's birthday dawned, and with it, the day before the wedding. Harry and Draco had been rooming with Ron. Draco surprised Harry by initiating a fiery kiss that sent Harry's blood racing and his heart pumping, and woke him up in an awful hurry. When Ron woke up and found their lips attached – yet again, but when were they not? – his response was to throw a pillow in their direction, effectively breaking them up.

"Oi," he exclaimed. "A kiss here and there is fine, but not a full-on snog, at least not till I'm more fully awake. You don't see me and Hermione going at it all the time, do you?"

"Fine, fine," Harry said, laughing as he held his hands up in surrender. Draco reluctantly withdrew, but his eyes held the promise of more to come.

The day was fraught with tension, the quartet's impending departure hanging over everyone's heads. Though Harry felt guilty for the stress he was surely causing the Weasleys, he couldn't back out of his promise to Dumbledore, not when he had the weight of the wizarding world resting on his shoulders. Nonetheless, he tried his best to enjoy the day, and Draco certainly helped distract him from what was to come. Ginny would join them for walks around the garden, as would Ron and Hermione, once they'd come up for air, that is. Everyone avoided topics focused on the war or what the quartet intended to do once they left, and instead talked about frivolous things like Quidditch, as though there wasn't a war going on and the quartet would be going back to Hogwarts along with everyone else. However, though Ginny kept up a brave face, Draco could tell that she was affected by their plans more than she was letting on, and he did his best to cheer her up with little touches here and there, and gentle smiles. Draco was a natural charmer, and Ginny was soon her usual self again.

Their happy mood came crashing down around them with the arrival of the Minister. Molly had just served Harry his birthday cake in the shape of a Snitch when Arthur arrived with the Minister in tow. Harry tensed his shoulders, and Draco began to rub them soothingly. Harry had told him all about how the Minister had come to the Burrow over the holidays and basically bribed Harry into "popping in and out of the Ministry," as though he approved of what the government was doing. Draco was just as incensed as Harry had been, not the least was due to the Ministry having branded Harry a liar upon Voldemort's rebirth.

"I need to speak to Mr. Potter alone," said Rufus Scrimgeour, "Also, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger."

Harry reluctantly rose to go inside. Draco stood up as well and pulled him in for a brief kiss. "He can't have you for long," he whispered. "You're mine."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry replied, rubbing his hand across Draco's smooth alabaster skin. "Wait for me, love."

"Always," said Draco. "I'll be walking with Ginny. If you need me, just yell; we'll come running."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, saluting smartly as he shot Draco a cheeky grin.

"Oh, go on," Draco said with a laugh, shooing him towards the house. He turned to face Ginny and bowed before her, extending his hand. "Would you care to take a turn about the garden?" he asked, putting on an affected air as had previously been expected of him as the future Malfoy heir.

"I'd be delighted," said Ginny, grinning widely at him as she accepted his hand and rose to her feet. Looping her arm through his, she led him to a quiet corner where they wouldn't be disturbed. Gratefully, she sank onto a stone bench; Draco joined her, taking her small hands in his.

"We'll be leaving soon," he stated gravely, "And I just wanted to say how much I shall miss you, and how much I wish it were possible for us to take you along."

"There's no need to make apologies, Draco," said Ginny. "I understand; I really do. I'll miss you, too. I've appreciated the chance to get to know you better, to get to know the _real_ Draco, rather than the mask you wore to please everyone else, especially your father. You're stronger and braver than you give yourself credit for. Harry's lucky to have you."

"And I'm lucky to have him," Draco returned. "He's more than I deserve, as is your family and Hermione's friendship. I can never repay you all for what you've done for me—"

"Nonsense," Ginny laughed, waving away his thanks. "You'd do the same for us."

"I would," Draco replied in all seriousness. "I would give my life to ensure the safety of any one of you, I swear it."

Ginny stared at him, slack-jawed. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard or been witness to: Draco Malfoy, swearing to defend herself, her family, and her friends with his very life. Needless to say, any of them would return the favor in a heartbeat. Draco Malfoy had integrated so readily that she didn't know how they'd ever managed to get by without him.

"Say something, Gin," he pleaded with her, obviously aware of how greatly he had shocked her.

"I don't know what to say," Ginny said honestly, "Except thank you for your devotion. I won't forget this. And neither will the rest of my family when I tell them."

"I'm honored that you count me among your loved ones," Draco continued, "And I'm glad to know that at least one person would shed a tear for me, should I not survive the coming war."

"We'd all shed more than a tear for you, Draco," Ginny admonished him. "My parents love you like another son; my brothers count you among their rank; and I love you just as much any of them. So do everything that's within your power to come back to us; don't ever give up, do you hear me, Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Draco, smiling broadly at her veiled threat (and he knew she would deliver). Tenderly, he cradled her hand in his and raised it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of her knuckles as though he were a knight of old and she a fair maiden. "In the meantime," he whispered, "Keep _yourself_ safe, as well. I refuse to risk my life only to come home and not find my best girl waiting for me."

Ginny threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso and holding on for all she was worth. And that was how Harry found them: Draco rocking Ginny back and forth, her face buried in the crook of his neck, him planting kisses to the top of her head.

"Should I be jealous?" Harry asked playfully.

They turned their heads to face him, and Draco quickly disentangled himself from Ginny. "This isn't what it looks like," he said, holding his hands out in a placating manner towards Harry.

"Relax, Dragon," said Harry, moving forward to kiss him briefly to assure Draco that nothing was wrong. "I know you, and you would never betray me like that."

Draco's shoulders slumped in relief; he'd been so worried about having jeopardized his relationship with Harry. How would it have looked had they broken up so soon after getting together? He couldn't have born the pain. Without Harry, he was nothing. Without Harry, Draco would rather die!

"What did Scrimgeour want?" he asked, both to calm his racing heart and to hopefully distract Harry from reading the emotions that must have been playing across his face for anyone to see and interpret.

"He came to give us the items that Dumbledore left for us in his will," Harry explained.

As one, Ginny and Draco moved to embrace him, knowing how affected he had been and still was by the death of his greatest mentor. There was a time when Harry would have shrugged off their advances. Now, however, he welcomed their comfort, and gladly. He reciprocated their embrace, squeezing tightly in an effort to let them know how much he appreciated their unwavering support and devotion to him and the cause he stood for.

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Ron, Harry, and Draco retired to Ron's bedroom for the night. Ron quickly passed out, leaving Harry and Draco wide awake. Draco only knew that Harry hadn't gone to sleep yet because his breathing wasn't as even as it would have been otherwise. He realized then that Harry _had_ read the emotions in his eyes earlier and that they were going to talk now, whether Draco wanted to or not. He figured, at least, that it was better to talk openly now before circumstances called for the utmost secrecy.

"Out with it, Potter," he said, more harshly than he may have intended, but he was on edge.

"Why do you fear angering me?" asked Harry.

"I've been taught to fear angering anyone," Draco replied. "It's been drilled into me since I was a child. If I displeased Lucius in the slightest, I was put under the Cruciatus Curse, even at five years old."

"I'm not going to hurt you," said Harry, and Draco was eerily reminded of an earlier conversation back on Privet Drive. "I won't ever lay a hand on you without your permission," Harry continued, further evidence that he, also, recalled their prior conversation.

"I know," Draco whispered. The secret that he held so dear weighed heavy on his heart and the secret was this: that he _wanted_ Harry to lay a hand on him. Not in a sexual way – well, yes, that, too; he was still a teenage boy, after all (near enough, anyway), and craved sex the same as anyone. No, what he wanted was for Harry to punish him. See, Draco had been beaten down so often that he'd come to expect it, and, in a way, had grown to crave it – from the right sort of person, that is. And Harry was just the man to take him in hand and control him. Whether this desire made Draco sick or unnatural, he didn't care. Back on Privet Drive, Harry had once called him a sadist, and he had been right, for Draco had discovered that he liked a little pain with his pleasure. Draco's problem now was how to express this to Harry without coming off as weird or perverted.

"I can feel you thinking from over here," said Harry, breaking both the silence and Draco's thoughts. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Draco replied. "I'll tell you some other time."

Thankfully, Harry was content to drop the subject – for the time being, anyway – and wished Draco a pleasant night's sleep, before rolling over and promptly passing out. Draco smiled wistfully to himself, wondering what he'd ever done to deserve someone like Harry, who was so good, so pure. Draco still believed that he would only taint Harry in the end, but as Harry was convinced otherwise, Draco was content to defer to his judgment and follow his example, which he did by going to sleep himself.

* * *

><p>The next day was the wedding, and everyone was kept busy by Mrs. Weasley, who was bustling about to make sure that the event would run smoothly. At long last, everything was in place; all the guests had taken their seats and it was time for the bride's entrance. Everyone gasped as Fleur, who seemed to be emitting a strong, silvery glow, floated down the aisle, a vision in white. Her radiance touched everyone, and Draco found himself falling in love with Harry all over again.<p>

After the ceremony, everyone moved to the dance floor, Harry and Draco among all the others. Harry took Draco in his arms, which the blond was grateful for. He had too much on his mind to think about dancing; he was glad to follow wherever Harry led. Draco lowered his head to rest it on Harry's shoulder; he felt Harry do the same. As they danced, Draco thought about how this could be his and Harry's wedding someday, that is, if they survived the coming war. Harry would, at least – of this, Draco was absolutely positive, if only because he would sell his soul before he let Harry die. His grip on Harry tightened infinitesimally; though he would never share this with anyone, least of all Harry, he was scared. Not for himself, never. He honestly didn't care what happened to him. But he didn't want others he knew and loved to perish. He would do all he could to ensure that the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione lived to experience a world without fear.

"I love you, Draco," Harry whispered in his ear, and Draco shivered at the pleasant sensations suddenly assaulting his senses. He pulled back slightly, the better to face Harry, only to quickly close the distance again as he connected their lips. They stopped moving, preferring to stand in the middle of the dance floor kissing. After all, this was a wedding, a celebration of love. And Harry and Draco were in love.

Ignorant to the stares they were receiving – from Hermione, the Weasleys, and a few select friends and relatives, they looked on with pride and admiration, for they knew what both boys had been through already and would continue to face; others, those who were less tolerant, looked on with barely concealed disgust – Harry and Draco continued to kiss, lightly sucking and nipping at each other's lips, tongues exploring the caverns of their mouths. They were interrupted by the arrival of a Patronus, that of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead," the lynx said, "They are coming."

Pandemonium reigned as a multitude of black-cloaked figures suddenly appeared in the party's midst. Draco knew instantly who and what they were: Death Eaters. He searched desperately for Ron and Hermione, who were pushing past guests to reach him and Harry. At the same time, Ginny and the twins were making their ways towards them, arriving at the same time as Ron and Hermione.

"Go; hurry," each urged the quartet, drawing their wands and forming a protective ring around them to guard their escape.

"What about you?" Draco asked Ginny, though the twins were included in his inquiry as well.

"I can take care of myself," Ginny said firmly. "We all can. Now, go!"

Draco was prepared to take his friends' hands and Apparate to safety, when he suddenly surged forward, kissing Ginny's forehead quite forcefully. Before Apparating away, he chanced a glance back. The last thing he saw before his vision faded to black was Ginny's blazing look. Then, there was nothing but inky darkness as he was pressed very hard from all directions, iron bands tightening around his chest.

The hunt for the horcruxes was on.


	8. Chapter 8

When the quartet reappeared, it was in a muggle street of London, and they were standing practically in the middle of the road. Harry roughly pulled Draco out of the way of an oncoming bus, while Ron did the same to Hermione. Once everyone was standing safely on the sidewalk, they began to walk.

Hermione rustled about in her purse for something. "I packed a change of clothes for us to wear," she explained. "I knew we might have to leave at any time, so I've taken to carrying this bag with me wherever I've gone."

"That's brilliant, Hermione," said Harry, grateful for his friend's constant vigilance. "Why don't we go to Grimmauld Place to plan our next move? If we stay where we are, there's every chance that Vol—"

Harry was abruptly cut off as Draco clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Whatever you do, don't say _his_ name," Draco hissed. "He's probably banned it like he did in the last war as a way to track rebels. And you're about as rebellious as they come, Potter."

Harry nodded shakily. Though their current situation may not have been the time or the place to be having such thoughts, he liked this dominant side of the normally submissive Draco.

Ducking into a nearby alley, they all held hands and appeared at the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

"Welcome to hell," Harry intoned, flourishing his arm in an invitation for Draco to precede him inside.

They made themselves at home as best as they could with their limited resources. Ron gallantly gave Hermione the couch to sleep on, while he made do with the floor below her. Hands clasped, they soon passed out. Draco clung to Harry. As before at the wedding, he would never admit to being scared, but now that their so-called "purpose" had begun – it all seemed so real now, less of a game – he was downright terrified. Harry unknowingly soothed him by wrapping his arms tightly around Draco's back and torso – and though Draco would have bruises to show for it, he couldn't find it in himself to care – occasionally shifting to be able to stroke Draco's hair. Harry being in charge calmed Draco's frazzled nerves and caused him to lower his guard.

"Harry," he whispered, "Where do you think we would be if I'd gone through with it? Would we have still ended up together?"

There was no doubt in Harry's mind what "it" was. Clearly, Draco's intended part in the death of Albus Dumbledore had left him rattled. He pressed a firm kiss to Draco's forehead and held him, if possibly, even tighter, needing to let Draco know that he in no way blamed him – for even if Draco himself wasn't aware, Harry was, and knew that the blond wizard desperately craved his approval.

"I have no doubt that we would have, love," he whispered back. "Some things are meant to be, and you and I are one of them."

"I love you, Harry," Draco whispered, twisting within the confines of Harry's arms to kiss him squarely on the mouth. Harry responded in kind, though he didn't let the kiss deepen too much. As he'd realized before, their current situation was neither the time nor the place to be letting passion rule the senses. Draco snuggled closer, again clinging to Harry in a desperate search for comfort. They fell into a tense and restless sleep, though Harry did his best to guard Draco's dreams, as Draco did for Harry.

* * *

><p>In the morning, the quartet sat down to breakfast and began to discuss in earnest what their next move should be. They all agreed that tracking down the locket should be their main priority for the time being. However, first they needed to discover what the initials R.A.B. stood for so that they stood a better chance of finding the locket's location.<p>

Draco, with his brilliant mind, was hit with a sudden inspiration. He sprung up from his seat and raced up the stairs, Harry hot on his trail and the others not far behind. Though he would most likely pay later on for not explaining fully what he was doing, Draco was willing as long as his hunch was correct. He pounded down the hallway, pausing only briefly to look at the names on the doors. Finally, he came to a full stop in front of one in particular.

"Read the nameplate," he said, "Go on."

Harry did as he was bid and leaned forward. This is what he saw:

_Do Not Enter_

_Without the Express Permission of_

_Regulus Arcturus Black_

"R.A.B.," Harry whispered breathily.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Of course; it all fits," Hermione exclaimed.

"Regulus was a Death Eater who joined up when he was young but got cold feet and was eventually killed as a traitor," said Draco calmly, fighting back his panic at the realization of his and his cousin's similarities. "If he'd become disenchanted, it would only make sense that he would try to bring the Dark Lord down in any way that he could."

"But how do we know if he managed to destroy the locket before he died or not?" asked Ron.

"We don't," Draco said regretfully.

"Wait a minute," Harry said. "When we were cleaning out Grimmauld Place before our fifth year, there was a locket that no one could open; big, gold and black. Maybe that was it."

"But we threw a lot of stuff out," Ron protested. "What if that was one of them?"

"Don't forget, Ron," said Hermione, "Kreacher also stole a lot of stuff back from us. Suppose the locket was one such item?"

The trio raced back downstairs, Draco following on their heels. They tore into Kreacher's home with enthusiasm, but there wasn't any locket.

"This isn't over," Harry declared, "KREACHER!"

A filthy old house elf appeared, bowing low before Harry, though it obviously despised those present. "Master called?" he croaked.

"Yes, I did," Harry responded. Clearly, the feeling was mutual. "What did you do with the locket you stole back from us?"

Kreacher seemed to freeze in place at Harry's question. "It's gone," he whispered, "Mungdungus Fletcher took it when he raided the house."

Harry closed his eyes as disappointment flooded his senses. So close; they had been so close to finding the locket and ending this once and for all. And now . . .

"I'm sorry, Master," Kreacher wailed, falling to his knees. For a moment, Draco thought he was referring to Harry, but then realized that the elf was talking to the air. "I failed in my orders. Forgive me, Master!"

"Kreacher, what orders?" asked Draco harshly, speaking for the first time.

"Master Malfoy," Kreacher exclaimed, obviously surprised by the blond wizard's presence, having overlooked him before.

"What orders, Kreacher?" Draco repeated, gentler this time.

So Kreacher launched into his tale: how he had served Regulus, who had served the Dark Lord; how Regulus had come to him when You-Know-Who had required the use of a house elf; how he had accompanied _him_ to a cavern, inside which was a black lake; how he had been instructed to drink a potion only for the Dark Lord to abandon him in the end; how the Inferi had tried to pull him down to the bottom of the lake, but his master's orders to come home had saved him—

"Wait, how could you just leave?" asked Harry. "If Dumbledore couldn't Apparate in or out of that cave—"

"Elf magic is different than human magic, Harry," Hermione explained. "That's how the house elves can Apparate around Hogwarts where we mere humans can't. Of course, You-Know-Who would never have considered that house elves might have magic that he didn't, just like all the purebloods who treat them like animals—"

Her rant was abruptly cut off as Harry cleared his throat and shifted his eyes in the direction of Draco, who was staring straight ahead, a blank look on his face.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione apologized immediately. "I didn't mean you."

"It's okay, Hermione," said Draco. "I understand, and you're right. I was once like all the others. Our old house elf, Dobby – I treated him terribly and never once thanked him for all that he did for me and for my family. So you're justified to say what you did; no hard feelings."

Hermione and Draco shared a smile before turning their attention back to Kreacher. Draco knelt on the ground so as to be level with the elf.

"So you came home, thus following your master's instructions. How did you disobey orders?" Draco asked him kindly.

"Master came to Kreacher one night and asked Kreacher to take him to the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord." Kreacher shuddered, as did the rest of those present. "When we got there," Kreacher went on, "Master Regulus pulled out an identical locket to the one the Dark Lord had and told Kreacher to switch the lockets once the basin was empty, and then to leave him and go home." Kreacher began to sob, "Kreacher had to watch as his beloved Master was dragged beneath the water . . ."

The poor elf couldn't go on, too overcome by the memories. The quartet waited until his sobbing ceased and he had forced himself into a sitting position.

"Kreacher's orders were to destroy the locket, but nothing Kreacher tried would work. I failed Master Regulus," he wailed, falling to the ground and sobbing again.

"Kreacher," said Harry gently, taking his cues from both Hermione and Draco. "There's something I'd like for you to do: I'd like for you to find Mundungus Fletcher and bring him here. Do you think you could do that for us? It's very important that we find the real—Master Regulus' locket, and finish what he started. We want to ensure that he didn't die in vain."

Kreacher rubbed at his eyes to clear them of tears and stared at Harry in shock. After all, he probably hadn't heard a kind word from anyone in quite some time.

"Here," said Harry, struck by a sudden inspiration as he pulled out the fake locket, "This belonged to Regulus and I'm sure he'd want you to have it as a token of gratitude for what you—"

He was abruptly cut off as Kreacher fell to the floor, sobbing again. When they had finally calmed the house elf down, he bowed to them all – even to Hermione – and Disapparated away with a sharp crack.

* * *

><p>All four were going stir-crazy when almost three days had passed without a sign or word from Kreacher. The sight of several sentries, surely posted by Voldemort himself, certainly didn't help matters any. Therefore, they were understandably relieved by Lupin's arrival. Not only was he a familiar face, but he could tell them what had happened after their abrupt departure from the Burrow. All were safe, thankfully, but the Ministry, now composed of Death Eaters, was cracking down on families to discover the whereabouts of Harry. In addition, a new blood status registry was being implemented to track those who were muggle-born. The quartet were outraged when Lupin told them, and Ron immediately jumped to Hermione's defense, saying that he would tell everyone she was his cousin if that would make a difference.<p>

Draco laughed. Not a mean laugh, but one of vague amusement bordering on hysteria. "No offense to anyone, but we're currently on the run with Harry Potter, the most wanted person in the country. If we were going to be at Hogwarts, I'd say you have a point. But as it is, I don't think it'll matter much."

"I appreciate the offer, Ron," said Hermione sweetly, leaning over to kiss his cheek. She squeezed his hand as they continued to listen to the rest of Lupin's news.

Tonks was going to have a baby, yet Lupin was willing to leave her behind to join them on their mission from Dumbledore. Harry was furious, and Draco agreed with him. He saw what Lupin was going to do a second before he acted, and jumped in front of Harry, pushing him to the ground and allowing Lupin to send him flying backwards instead. He slammed painfully into the kitchen wall and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Harry was by his side in an instant. Both looked towards Lupin, who was staring back at them with something akin to horror in his eyes, before he turned abruptly on his heel and fled.

The quartet barely had time to recover before Kreacher appeared with a crack, accompanied by a struggling Mundungus Fletcher. Hermione quickly disarmed him, while Ron tackled him to the floor when he tried to escape. With a reassuring kiss to Draco's forehead, Harry left him to attend to the coming inquisition.

With a side glance to Kreacher, Harry said, "You've done really well, Kreacher. Thank you."

Kreacher bowed low.

Harry turned his attention back to the cowering thief, "When you cleaned out this house of anything valuable," he began, "There was a locket. What did you do with it?"

Kreacher had obtained a frying pan and held it aloft, clearly threatening Mundungus into telling the truth. Draco, still leaning against the kitchen wall, laughed softly at the sight of the wrinkled old house elf wielding a pan that must equal his own weight, if not surpass it.

"A woman came up to me in Diagon Alley," said Mundungus, his gaze shifting between Harry's wand, which was pointed at his nose, directly between his eyes, and Kreacher, who still held the frying pan in a threatening manner. "She asked if I had a license and was gonna fine me when she took a fancy to the locket. Told me she'd take it and let me off that time."

"Who was she?" asked Harry.

"I dunno, some Ministry hag," Mundungus responded, "Little woman; wore a bow on top of her head; looked like a toad."

After casting the Obliviate spell on Mundungus, he was released. Draco immediately staggered to his feet, forgetting all about his own injuries in favor of comforting Harry. He knew what Umbridge had done to him, and he was ashamed that he'd helped her to do it. If they survived the war, Draco vowed that he would let Harry punish him for all the mean and nasty things he'd ever said and done, in and out of any of the trio or the Weasleys' presence.

The rest of the month was spent on reconnaissance missions to the Ministry and such to get information about the goings-on in the outside world. Draco begged to be allowed a turn, but Harry held firm, stating that he was only concerned about Draco's safety and wanted to keep him where no harm could befall him. Their ensuing row was more entertaining than any of their previous arguments had been at Hogwarts. Harry was secretly pleased by Draco taking a stand and demanding something, as up until that point, he'd been accepting what he was given and not asking for anything more. In the end, Harry relented, and Draco was allowed out, under the cover of Harry's invisibility cloak, as all the others were.

Finally, the day dawned when they would break into the Ministry and steal the all-important locket back from Umbridge. Harry had been rubbing at his hand, which, as Draco well knew, bore the scars he had sustained during his detentions with _her_. Whenever he noticed this, he took Harry's hand in his and squeezed it gently, in reassurance that everything was going to be alright.

All went according to plan: they found the appropriate wizards and witch; incapacitated them; assumed their identities; and strolled into the Ministry without a problem. The real trouble started when they were separated. Hermione had to go with Umbridge herself, while Ron was sent to deal with Yaxley's office. Harry and Draco, meanwhile, managed to stay together, Draco surreptitiously clutching at Harry's robes. When the bi—sorry, the witch's office had been searched without a trace of the locket, they ventured down to the courtrooms. This time, Harry clutched at Draco, remembering his own trial down here, and how scared he had been that he would be expelled from Hogwarts, never to see his friends again, or argue with Draco, then only Malfoy to him . . .

Harry's blood boiled at hearing Umbridge spout off lies about the origins of the locket she had taken as a bribe from a common thief, and he acted before thinking, quickly stunning her before turning to stun Yaxley as well. From there, he and Draco freed the current prisoner, a Mrs. Cattermole, whose husband Ron was impersonating, while Hermione duplicated the locket so as to fool Umbridge. With some difficulty, they fought through the dementors and reached the top level, followed by an entourage of muggle-borns who Harry had every intention of freeing. They met up with Ron, still disguised as Reg Cattermole, and ducked into the nearest fireplace. However, Yaxley, who had since been revived, had seen them and followed.

The quartet had already Disapparated away, intending to land on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, when, with an unexpected tugging at their navels, they were jerked in a completely different direction. When they landed, it was in the middle of a forest – not the Forbidden Forest, as Harry and Draco initially thought and hoped for – and Ron had been injured, Splinched, during the journey. They set up camp and took turns keeping guard and tending to Ron.

Time passed more slowly than any of them had ever thought it could. They never stayed in the same place for long, too worried about their location being tracked or someone stumbling upon them. When Harry first became irritable, even going so far as to snap at Hermione, and Ron first began to grouse about how this trip wasn't turning out how he'd expected, they all realized that the Horcrux was affecting their moods and that they should take turns wearing the locket so that no one was forced to bear the burden alone.

Draco was currently taking his turn sitting with Ron. Harry, whose turn it was to wear the Horcrux, was outside with Hermione, guarding the camp. Draco observed Ron, who was staring up at the ceiling of the tent, a bored expression on his face.

"How did you know you loved Hermione?" asked Draco, breaking the silence. Ron visibly startled, having almost forgotten that Draco was there. "I mean, everyone at Hogwarts could see that you two would end up together eventually," Draco went on, "But at the same time, you seemed so different – too incompatible for things to ever work out – that we all thought it would take a miracle for you to get your acts together."

Ron considered Draco's question. "We are different, I'll admit that," he said. "But, Hermione . . . she's special. She makes me want to be a better person. Yeah, she can get on my nerves sometimes with her self-righteousness and know-it-all attitude, but she's saved mine and Harry's life loads of times, so I can forgive her that."

"But is that – the fact that she's saved your life – any reason for you two to be together?" Draco prodded.

"That isn't the only reason," said Ron. "She's brilliant; she's smart and witty; and she has a natural beauty that's always seemed to just draw me to her."

He finished with a goofy grin on his face. Draco watched him and wondered if he ever looked like that when he was thinking about Harry.

"What about you?" Ron asked, turning the tables on Draco. "When did you realize that you loved Harry?"

"I don't know exactly," Draco confessed. "I could use the old cliché about it being love at first sight. And maybe it was. I know that I certainly felt something for Harry from the moment I saw him. But I don't think I really admitted my feelings until I was immersed in fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. I was scared, and I thought that Harry could save me. And he did, by accepting me and believing me when I told him and Dumbledore that I wanted to switch sides. My love for him has only grown since."

"That's beautiful, Draco," said Hermione, who had been listening by the door. Harry was still outside, giving them their privacy.

"I'm glad you think so," Draco replied. "I know how important you two are to Harry, and I want for you to approve of us. I never want to come between you and Harry, or to cause a rift in your friendship."

"That could never happen, Draco," Hermione assured him. "We're all equally important to Harry – and to each other – and he would never choose one of us over another."

"I'll leave you two alone," said Draco, rising from his seat and heading towards the door. He paused by Hermione's side and kissed her cheek. Then he stepped fully outside the tent and moved to join Harry, who was resting his back against the base of a tree. "Hi," he said, leaning over to kiss Harry on the cheek as a way of greeting. However, Harry had already been turning his head, so their lips met instead (not that either boy minded).

After kissing for a few minutes – more like snogging, Ron would say, had he seen them – Harry reluctantly pulled away. "So, I've been talking with Hermione," he said. "She's agreed to give us an evening alone together. Ron's well enough to sit outside with her, now, and keep guard."

Draco was excited by the notion of being alone with Harry, at least, more so than they'd been so far. "That's great," he exclaimed. "Anything special you had in mind?"

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see, now, won't you?" asked Harry, winking cheekily at him.

The next evening couldn't come soon enough for Draco. Hermione had sent him to fetch some wood for the fire that she and Ron would be sitting around as they watched the surrounding forest. When he returned, she relieved him of his bundle and said that Harry was waiting for him inside. Draco eagerly ducked through the tent flap, and found that the tent had been transformed. Candles lined the floor and floated in the air. Harry sat perched on the edge of their bed, fidgeting nervously. At the sight of Draco, he rose to his feet and approached him.

"I know I might seem a little forward, and that this is all kind of sudden," he stammered. "But- I really love you, Draco, and I want to make this special for you, because you deserve nice things, and—"

Draco silenced him with a kiss. When they pulled away, both breathless, Draco whispered huskily, "Now, out with it, Potter. What's this all about?"

"I—" Harry was still clearly very nervous. "I want to make love to you."

Draco stared at him in shock. He wasn't amazed about Harry's desire – Draco had a very attractive body, after all. What stunned him was the thought Harry had put into making this evening as memorable as possible.

"You did all this for me?" he whispered, gesturing around him to the candles.

Harry nodded miserably, having convinced himself that Draco would refuse his offer. He was therefore surprised when Draco suddenly claimed his lips in a bruising kiss.

"Does this mean—?" he had to ask, his voice tapering away.

"Yes," Draco replied, nodding his consent to what Harry was suggesting they do.

Wordlessly, Harry led him by the hands over to the bed. He sat down and just stared up at Draco. Then, he abruptly yanked on the sweatpants that Draco was wearing so that they pooled around his feet, soon to be followed by his underwear. Harry's hands came up to cup Draco's arse, and he tapped him smartly on the rear. Draco jumped, slightly startled, but otherwise didn't move except to look down at Harry with blackened pupils, eyes blown wide with lust. Harry took note of Draco's reaction and stored that information away for a later time. He began to kiss a path along Draco's abdomen, his tongue darting out to swirl around his belly button before gradually descending lower. As the muscles in his arse clenched with anticipation and his stomach coiled in tight knots, Draco threw his head back and gasped with pleasure, arching into Harry's touch.

"More; _please_," he moaned, begging for release.

Instead, Harry took his mouth away and stood so that he and Draco were relatively level. Draco whined at the loss of contact, but obediently raised his arms so that Harry could remove his shirt.

"You, too," Draco panted, "Too many clothes."

Having already discarded his socks and shoes, Harry stood patiently as Draco began to reverently undress him, removing first his shirt, then unbuckling his belt – Harry noticed him shiver at this action – and pulling down his jeans and underwear so that they pooled around his feet. Harry then helpfully stepped out of them. They were now completely naked, bared before each other, vulnerable. Harry flipped them so that the back of Draco's knees hit the edge of the bed, causing him to sit down. Desperate to pleasure Harry as Harry had done to him, Draco lowered his own mouth and began to lick a path down Harry's chest in the direction of his abdomen. Harry was soon moaning and gasping under his ministrations. When that became too much for them, Harry gently eased Draco down onto the bed, lowering himself over Draco's body and covering him like a shield.

As Draco gave all of himself to Harry, he idly thought that he'd never been happier. Making love, having sex, whichever one preferred to call what they were doing – it exceeded all of his imaginings and secret fantasies. Growing up, all Draco had known was that he was expected to marry and produce an heir. That was to be his destiny. But Harry had made him believe that there was more to life than just making his parents happy. His own happiness was important, too. Draco had never felt this way before, and he would be eternally grateful to Harry for showing him this.

At that moment, Harry entered him, and Draco gasped. Harry instantly stilled above him, checking to make sure that he was alright. Draco assured him that he was fine; the intrusion would just take some getting used to. In a moment, the pain had passed and all Draco knew was pleasure as a feeling of utter contentment settled over him. Harry, sensing this, began to move again. As each grew more comfortable with their situation, Harry increased his thrusting. Soon, both were reaching their climax, and came screaming the other's name.

Harry eased out of Draco and collapsed onto the mattress next to him. "How was that?" he asked, worry creasing his brow. He wanted the experience to have been pleasurable for Draco; after all, it _was_ his first time. Not that he was only after Draco for his body, but Harry had had the time of his life and he wanted to do this again, though only if Draco was willing.

"It was perfect," Draco whispered, leaning over to capture Harry's lips in a gentle kiss. "Thank you."

Harry returned the kiss, briefly pulling away to draw a blanket over their still-naked bodies. Blowing out the candles and wrapping his arms tightly around Draco, cuddling the blond close to his chest, he whispered into the darkness, "I love you, Draco. Sleep well."

"I love you, too," Draco replied, turning within Harry's arms to kiss his cheek sweetly, before letting sleep claim him.

And for that one moment, all was well.

* * *

><p>The next morning, both boys emerged from the tent looking distinctly rumpled. Harry's hair was even messier than usual, and while Draco's was in pristine condition, the effect was ruined by the love bites marring what could be seen of his neck. Ron and Hermione wisely chose not to comment, having known full well what Harry and Draco were going to get up to when they agreed to give them an evening alone.<p>

Over breakfast, Hermione broached the subject of where to go next. "I've been thinking," she said slowly. "I think we should go to Godric's Hollow. Dumbledore might have left the sword of Gryffindor there, knowing that Harry would want to visit. And considering it's the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor, it's only logical—"

"Wait, Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders, came from Godric's Hollow?" asked Harry in amazement.

"Well, yes. I mean, the village is named for him, after all," said Hermione. "Honestly, Harry, didn't you ever open _A History of Magic_?"

"Maybe once or twice," Harry admitted sheepishly.

The group shared a laugh at Harry's expense before deciding on how they should proceed. As it turned out, all their planning went right out the window, rather literally. Having visited the final resting place of James and Lily Potter – Draco clung to Harry, silently offering him the comfort he needed at seeing both the home where his family was cruelly ripped from him and his parents graves – the quartet discovered an old woman watching them. Bathilda Bagshot was a disappointment, though, as she turned out to be Nagini in disguise, who then summoned Voldemort to finish Harry off. With quick acting on the parts of Draco and Hermione, who each grabbed their respective partner, they jumped out the window and Apparated in mid-air. Arriving back at camp, Draco managed to get Harry into bed with the help of the other two, which was quite a feat, considering that Harry was thrashing about and yelling loudly. For hours, Draco never left his side, and he could have cried in relief when his Harry finally returned.

No words were needed as Harry surged upright, pulling Draco into his lap and holding on tight. Draco let Harry squeeze him, despite the bruises that he was sure were forming. They could always be healed later. Right now, though, Harry needed him.

Things returned to normal after that. They moved around a lot, never staying in the same place for long. One night, while Harry was keeping watch, he saw a bright sliver light in the distance, almost beckoning him to follow. Against his better judgment, Harry stood and did just that, following the silver-white doe – a Patronus, his mind idly informed him – deeper into the woods. She disappeared as suddenly as she had come, and Harry was left standing in a clearing. All he could see was a small, frozen pool, in which something glittered. He knelt down for a closer examination of the object, and realized that it was the sword of Gryffindor!

Having first tried to summon the sword – not that he'd expected for that to work – Harry quickly shed his clothes, and, having broken the ice, dove in. The water hit him like a thousand knives stabbing him all over his body. He couldn't breathe. But the sword was just within reach. He grasped it and tried to return to the surface, but something was stopping him. The locket – the Horcrux! He was still wearing it! Suddenly, Harry felt a pair of familiar arms wind around his waist and tug him upwards. He relaxed, trusting Draco to take care of him. They landed heavily on the snowy bank, Draco having heaved Harry up first. Draco now crawled out and collapsed in a heap next to Harry.

"What were you thinking?" panted Draco with barely disguised rage.

Harry was startled, but quickly recovered. Draco had every right to be angry with him when he'd just needlessly risked both of their lives like that. He should have thought before he acted – that had always been his problem. He should have realized that the locket, still an active Horcrux, would have prevented him from returning to the surface.

"I wasn't thinking," Harry replied at long last. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Draco groused.

After a moment's pause, they both stood, considering the locket which had landed on the ground. Looking at Draco out of the corner of his eye, Harry moved it to a fallen log. Picking up the sword that Draco had retrieved, Harry handed it to him.

"I think I'll have to open it using Parseltongue," he said. "Then, you stab it."

Draco nodded shakily. With a hiss and a snarl, the golden doors of the locket clicked open. At first, all either Harry or Draco could see was some black smoke. But then they heard a voice that sent chills down their spine, a voice that haunted both of their dreams. It was Voldemort, telling Draco to kill Harry Potter and take his father's place by his side. Draco froze, having seemingly forgotten the sword in his hands and what he was supposed to do with it. This was his worst nightmare, being ordered to kill the boy he loved. If he'd gone through with the murder of Dumbledore, there was no doubt that he would have eventually had a hand in Harry's death. Being an old schoolmate, Voldemort would probably have used that connection to get close to Harry and then kill him. Suddenly, his love's voice broke through the haze clouding his thoughts.

"Stab it, Draco. Go on; I know you can do it," yelled Harry.

With a force he didn't know he had, Draco swung the sword in an arch and brought it down sharply on the locket, striking it directly in the middle. With an anguished cry, the Horcrux that inhabited the locket died.

Breathing heavily, Draco chanced a glance up at Harry. "I would never have done what he ordered me to do, Harry," he whispered. "You have to believe me."

"I do, Draco, you know I do," said Harry, moving to embrace the trembling blond. "Otherwise, you would have killed me already." Draco collapsed to his knees, the shock and relief warring within him. Harry joined him on the ground, crouching above him and holding his head close to his chest. "Shh, it's alright; everything's okay. I'm here, Draco, I'm not going anywhere. I love you," he whispered over and over again.

Slowly, Draco's sobs quieted and he stopped shaking in Harry's arms. "I'm alright, now," he whispered. "Let's get back to camp before the others get lost searching for us."

"Okay," said Harry, helping a still-unsteady Draco to his feet. "Are you sure you're alright?" he had to ask.

"Yes, Harry, I'm fine," Draco replied, smiling reassuringly at his boyfriend.

They returned to the campsite in silence, speaking only to tell their story to an incredulous Ron and Hermione. Both were overjoyed at having gotten rid of one of the Horcruxes, which meant that they were that much closer to defeating Voldemort. Afterwards, though, a certain amount of tension remained, as neither Harry nor Draco were comfortable with discussing what the Horcrux had said to them, or, more specifically, to Draco. In an effort to break this tension, Hermione approached Harry with the idea of visiting the Lovegoods to ask Luna's father about the necklace he'd been wearing at Bill and Fleur's wedding, as that particular sign kept cropping up: in the book that Dumbledore had left her, at the Godric's Hollow cemetery . . . too often to be a coincidence. Harry agreed immediately, if only to break the monotony.

However, as with any plan, their intentions were shot to hell when Xenophilius betrayed them to the Death Eaters. Though they had had their question about the mysterious sign answered – who would have guessed that there was any truth to a simple children's tale? – they had to leave in an awful hurry. Ron took the lead this time, Apparating to the first place he thought of, which happened to be one of the Order's safe houses, Shell Cottage, where Bill and Fleur were currently staying. They landed on the beach in a jumble of limbs. Bill and Fleur hurried outside to find out what all the commotion was about. After their identities had been verified, the quartet was ushered inside, where they discovered Luna sipping tea and Dobby bustling about in the kitchen. Then they were told that Griphook and Olivander were in separate guest bedrooms upstairs, recovering from the ordeal they had each been through.

Apparently, all three had been kept prisoner at Malfoy Manor. However, Narcissa, in a rare moment during which she had been left alone, summoned Dobby to her and requested that he free the prisoners in the dungeon. Dobby offered to take her with them, but she refused, saying that her place was by her husband's side. Draco wanted to cry; he knew that his mother had done this for him. He only hoped that he had a chance to repay her.

At the mention of Griphook, Harry's eyes lit up as though he were hatching a plan. He soon explained his idea to the others: he wanted to break into Gringotts and get inside Bellatrix's vault. He had a feeling that she might have offered to store something for Voldemort in there, something that might turn out to be another Horcrux. Harry turned out to be right, but they were again betrayed, this time by Griphook. Left to their own devices, they freed the dragon that had been guarding the vaults and rode it up through the floors and out the glass ceiling. They flew until they reached open country; then, as they glided across a lake, they dropped off of the dragon's back and into the water.

It was at this time that Harry informed them that through his and Voldemort's connection, he had seen that Voldemort knew they were in possession of the cup and was worried about the safety of the ring and locket, and that the final Horcrux – aside from Nagini – was located at Hogwarts.

"I knew it," Harry exclaimed. "Come on; we'll get in through Hogsmeade once we've seen what the protection on the castle is like."

Without complaint, the other three joined Harry under the cloak, turning on the spot into the crushing darkness. No sooner had they landed, than a horrible cry rent the air, and there was no doubt that their arrival was the cause. Death Eaters came pouring out of the Three Broomsticks, passing the quartet by inches in their haste to back away.

"In here, Potter, quick," said a rough voice from behind them.

The quartet obeyed his order without question, hurrying upstairs where he directed them, and waited in terrified silence as he dealt with the Death Eaters who swore they had seen a stag Patronus charge the dementors they had sent after the quartet. Only as he returned did they realize that their savior was Aberforth, the brother of Dumbledore. Though he tried to talk them out of completing Albus' foolish mission, they were determined and, in the end, he had no choice but to help them, or sentence them to a fate worse than death. After telling them about his and Albus' sister, Ariana, he sent the portrait of her to fetch someone.

That someone turned out to be Neville Longbottom, who gave them all tremendous hugs, even Draco. Leading them through the secret tunnel that was now the only way in or out of Hogwarts, he explained what had been happening, how the Carrows had been in charge of punishment and what that entailed. Draco was shaking; the Carrows had been "in" on convincing him to accept the Dark Mark, of which he still bore the scars. Harry, sensing this, gripped his hand tighter. They piled out of the tunnel and into the Room of Requirement where it seemed that half of Hogwarts was hiding out. The quartet was greeted like the heroes they were, and received a round of cheers. People began streaming through the portrait hole, and Draco was suddenly assaulted by Ginny, who was clinging to his neck as though her life depended on it. Then, all the Weasleys were there, and it was one big family reunion – even Percy had seen the light and come to join the fight.

Everything happened in a rush after that: the Ravenclaws explaining about the lost diadem; Luna offering to show Harry what it looked like; Draco insisting that he accompany Harry to the tower; attacking the Carrows for insulting Professor McGonagall. As they left to alert the other Heads of House, they were apprehended by Snape. Knowing him to secretly be on the Order's side, Draco threw off the cloak and ran to his godfather.

"Sev," he whispered, burying his head in the man's chest.

"Draco," the former Potions Master murmured. "May I assume that Potter is nearby as well?"

"Right here, Professor," said Harry with a slight grin as he threw off the cloak, revealing Luna as well, "Enough of this charade, yeah? Join us, Professor – please."

"Yes, Harry, I think it's time," Snape replied, nodding curtly.

McGonagall had been watching all of this in silence. Now, she spoke: "If we're going to secure the castle against Voldemort, we should hurry."

Everyone split up then; the rest of the professors had arrived by that point – they moved to provide the castle with what protection they could; with a final embrace from Severus, Draco followed after Harry and Luna, who were returning to the Room of Requirement. They arrived in the middle of a heated battle: Mrs. Weasley was insisting that Ginny leave for safety. Draco interceded on her behalf.

"She is a member of Dumbledore's Army, after all, Mrs. Weasley," he said. "She's fought before, and rather well, too. What if she stays by me? I'll look out for her, I promise. You can trust me with your daughter."

Ginny looked pleadingly at her parents; this was better than she could have hoped for. "Please, Mum, Dad?"

With a shared look, the Weasleys sighed and relented. "Alright, Ginny, you can stay. Just . . . be careful."

"Always," Ginny replied, before darting out the door before they could change their minds, quickly followed by Draco, who shot a brief glance over his shoulder in Harry's direction.

They hadn't even begun to fight yet when the magically amplified voice of Voldemort rang out, demanding the surrender of Harry Potter. Both scoffed at the notion that he would ever give himself up, and returned to assisting anyone and everyone in whatever way that they possibly could. Chaos reigned as they fought side by side. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco thought that he saw Harry running, and directed Ginny in his direction. Working together, they fought to reach their friends' sides, and were rewarded with hugs and kisses all around. Harry quickly explained that he, Ron, and Hermione were headed to the Room of Requirement, and for what purpose, to which Draco and Ginny were quick to offer their services. However, no sooner had they reached their destination than they were halted by Crabbe and Goyle, led by Blaise Zabini.

"Go," Draco directed to Harry over his shoulder while still keeping his eyes trained on the trio. He felt Ginny's comforting body heat beside him as she raised her wand in preparation of the coming fight. "Gin and I can handle these buffoons."

"See that you do," Harry quipped, before disappearing along with Ron and Hermione down one of the room's many aisles of supposed junk, but which hopefully contained Ravenclaw's diadem that would prove to be their salvation.

"Hello, boys; long time, no see," Draco remarked pleasantly, as though striking up a casual conversation with old acquaintances.

"Blood traitors, the both of you," Zabini snarled.

"Blood traitors to what exactly?" asked Ginny, "Certainly not to our loved ones, for, after all, "Greater love hath no man than this: that a man lay down his life for his friends"."

Draco smirked at the trio's confusion. Only Ginny could get away with quoting Scripture in a situation such as this. "Let's end this now, once and for all," he said, sinking into a fighting stance, angled just so to allow him to get to Ginny at a moment's notice.

The fight was relatively short-lived: Crabbe and Goyle weren't known for their skill, and they were therefore no match for the combined forces of Draco and Ginny. Zabini posed more of a threat, but Draco had the advantage as he knew the other's fighting style. Yet, in the end, it was Harry who saved the day, having come around the corner at the exact moment that Zabini was aiming for Ginny's unprotected back, having already sufficiently distracted Draco. Regretfully, Harry had to use the Killing Curse, but he found that a small price to pay for Ginny's safety. Draco and Ginny clung to each other as they recovered, neither having actually killed another person before. However, they, in addition to Ron and Hermione, were forced to move on. Having recovered the diadem, they now needed a way to destroy it.

Ron hit on the brilliant idea of retrieving some of the basilisk's fangs, as their venom was one of the few powers great enough to destroy Horcruxes. With trepidation, they all made their way to girl's bathroom that Moaning Myrtle favored. Though Draco was reserved about the Chamber's affect on Ginny, she assured him that she would be fine; no one was keeping her from accompanying them _down there_. In any event, this would be as good a time as any to put to rest any remaining demons and prove, once and for all, that Tom Riddle had no more power over her, psychological or otherwise.

Once down in the Chamber, they made quick work of stabbing the cup, watching as the blood that had been spilled to create the Horcrux oozed out, forming a puddle around where they stood.

Returning to the surface to discover that a truce had been called and that Harry had an hour to give himself up, they were confronted by Severus Snape, who was most insistent that he talk to Harry alone.

"I have some memories for you," he said slowly. Withdrawing a vial from the pocket of his robes, he held his wand to his temple and dropped the silvery wisps into the bottle, securing the lid tightly. "Be careful; these are vital to ending the war."

"I understand, sir," said Harry solemnly.

Bidding farewell to his friends, at least for the time being, Harry departed for the Headmaster's office to view Snape's memories in Dumbledore's Pensieve. Draco had a bad feeling about what was to come. He looked to his godfather, but Severus was giving nothing away. When Harry returned, he looked shell-shocked.

"I'm the last Horcrux," he whispered.

"I'll go with you," Draco declared, knowing full well what Harry's intention was, and surging forward to wrap his arms tightly around Harry's neck.

"No, Dray, stay here where you'll be safe. Do you honestly think that I'd sentence you to death, too?" asked Harry, incredulous.

"Don't you see, Harry?" asked Draco, near to tears. "_You_ are my life, and I'd rather die with you than live without you."

Harry made a motion to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, and they stepped forward to restrain Draco, who fought madly to get to Harry. His movements subsided as Harry approached.

"I love you," Harry whispered, kissing Draco fiercely for what would be the last time. "Once I'm gone, kill the snake. Then, it's just him, and he'll be mortal again." With that, he turned on his heel and made his way down the grand staircase. Draco watched until he was out of sight, and then he began to struggle again.

"Let me go," he demanded.

"Draco," Hermione pleaded with him, fighting back her own tears; Ron gripped both of his arms and was holding them behind Draco's back. "Think of Harry. You won't be doing him any favors by getting yourself killed without good cause. If you do plan to die, go out with a bang, go out fighting. But don't just give up and wait for death to take you. Go to meet it head on."

Draco went limp in Ron's arms as Hermione's words struck a chord. He would be strong; he had to be, not just for Harry's sake, but for Ginny's as well. She didn't deserve him giving up when she still needed him. He was as much a part of her family as Harry was – she'd said so. To lose either of them would hurt her terribly. He met her eyes and she could see the resolve in them. He nodded once, and she smiled tiredly at him. So, it was agreed – they would continue fighting.

After that, all they could do was wait. It seemed ages before Voldemort approached Hogwarts bearing his prize, that of Harry Potter's body. Those who were left all scoffed openly at the notion that Harry would ever desert them, choosing to save his own life over those of his friends. Neville's speech brought tears to many eyes, including Draco and Ginny. Over the jeers of the Death Eaters, Draco heard his own name being called, by none other than Voldemort himself.

"Draco," he said. "Come here, and all will be forgiven."

Draco smiled to himself. Now was his chance to repay his mother. Squeezing Ginny's hand and pressing his lips to her forehead in a firm kiss, he broke away from the crowd of remaining students and staff and began the trek across the courtyard, his eyes darting back and forth from his mother's face to Harry's limp body resting in Hagrid's arms. Having reached the center, he held a hand out to Narcissa.

"Mother, come; join us, please," he begged her.

Without hesitation, she crossed the distance separating her from her son. Upon reaching him, she whispered urgently, "He's alive."

Draco's face lit up. There was only one person to whom she could be referring. He wanted to jump for joy, but he refrained, not wanting to spoil Harry's fun. At that exact moment, Voldemort and Lucius both aimed for the pair of them, furious at this outright rebellion. Simultaneously, Harry rolled out of Hagrid's arms, immediately drawing everyone's attention his way and allowing for Draco and Narcissa to fade back into the crowd. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny moved to greet them, exchanging brief pleasantries before being embroiled in battle once again.

The snake having been killed, thanks to Neville, Ginny found herself dueling alongside Draco, fighting Bellatrix, no less. They ducked and spun as one, intent on bringing down Voldemort's most stalwart lieutenant. There was a disturbance, and suddenly Mrs. Weasley joined them.

"NOT MY FAMILY, YOU BITCH!"

Draco had a plan. Motioning to Ginny, he made quick hand gestures to show her what he wanted. Nodding along, she acted, moving to distract Bellatrix while Draco moved into position. With a well aimed Stunner under her outstretched arm, Draco's curse struck his aunt directly over her heart, causing her to topple over. The watching crowd roared, while Voldemort screamed. Draco was sure it was over for him – no one angered the Dark Lord and survived – though not for Ginny. Moving to shield her, he prepared to die, and would hopefully be hailed as the hero he now knew himself to be, thanks to Harry, Ginny, and the others. Having expected death, he was surprised when a shield erected itself between him and Voldemort, but was not surprised by Harry's sudden appearance, having been warned by his mother that Harry was still alive.

The two began to circle each other at the same moment, a ring having formed around them, the crowd hanging on every word currently being uttered. Draco watched with trepidation, waiting on pins and needles. He could feel the tension thrumming through Ginny's body. He put a restraining hand on her, knowing that in this instance, Harry would wish to act on his own. Looking from his hand up to his face, Ginny relented, obeying Draco's silent command to be still.

Then, it was all over. As the sun rose and a new day dawned – how ironic, Draco found himself thinking – Voldemort and Harry each cast their respective spells, and the Elder Wand spun through the air to land in Harry's free hand, while Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, as the curse he had intended for Harry backfired. Dumbledore had come through in the end, the powers of the Death Stick having died with him, thus protecting Harry from being killed by whoever took possession of the Elder Wand.

There was a moment of silence, as those present took stock of what they had just been witness to, and then a great cheer rose up among them, and Harry was besieged by people wanting to shake his hand and hug him, eager to touch some part of the Boy Who Lived, the reason everyone could rest easy at last.

Having been lost in the crush of people, Draco waited for Harry to notice him on the outskirts. When he finally did, he was trailed by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry greeted Draco with a hug and a kiss, pouring all the love and desperation and relief he was feeling and had felt into that one passionate embrace. Hand in hand, they exited the Great Hall, followed only by the other three. No one stopped them, all having finally realized that though Harry belonged to them in some way, he was his own person and was entitled to the company of who he so chose. Besides, there was _time_ now: time to rejoice, time to commiserate, time to mourn, time to recover; time, time, time.

* * *

><p>Harry and his friends wandered without direction, yet each knew where they were headed. By an unspoken agreement, they would spend the day sleeping in the Room of Requirement, as it remained undamaged from the fight that had occurred during the search for the diadem. Harry paced three times in front of the wall. No sooner had he completed the final circuit than a door appeared. He pushed it open and breathed a sigh of relief. The room was decorated in neutral colors – nothing that spoke of houses or that would remind anyone of past rivalries – and a bed stood in the center, large enough to accommodate all five of them. Without a word, they crawled beneath the covers: Harry and Draco were in the middle; Ron and Hermione to the side of Harry; Ginny had positioned herself at Draco's back, her arms winding about his waist. The firelight flickered, casting shadows against the walls. None were bothered; they were too tired. There would be time to talk in the morning. As had been previously noted, there was more than enough time now, thanks to the valiant efforts of all those who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, none more so than the five currently in bed. And if anyone had been awake to listen, they would have heard the contented purr of a lion standing watch over their sleep. As it was, Draco smiled to himself, almost as if he could sense His presence and knew that He was pleased, before shifting closer to Harry. Peace settled over the five as Aslan breathed on them, guarding their dreams and providing them with visions of a happy future. By Aslan's will, all would soon be well.<p> 


	9. Epilogue

The first of September dawned crisp and cool.

Draco relished the early hours when he was the only one awake. He lolled in bed, stretching various limbs and testing their strength. Harry had pushed him to his limits the previous night. Their lovemaking had been more intense than he could ever recall it being before. However, Draco sensed that this was, in part, due to their daughter's imminent departure for Hogwarts. This would be Lucy Potter's first year there – Draco had insisted on taking Harry's name when they were wed, determined to leave his past behind him, including his name – and both he and Harry felt a little bereaved at the loss of their only child. Draco, because she reminded him so much of her namesake; Harry, because he had always wanted a family – a spouse and children – and to let one of them go was heartbreaking.

"Morning, handsome," Harry whispered from beside him, and Draco was instantly taken back to their activities from the night before:

"_Perhaps I should punish that luscious rear end of yours, hmm?" Harry had asked playfully, while Draco shivered with anticipation, welcoming whatever Harry had in store for him._

Draco's recollections soon made him hard – Is that all for me, lover? Harry asked him knowingly – and he and his husband of nineteen years spent a few pleasurable minutes exploring each other's bodies, not that there was much need for "exploring" after all this time. Harry and Draco had been married immediately following the war's conclusion, in a double wedding alongside Ron and Hermione. Neither couple had wanted to wait any longer. After having spent so long in fear of not living to see another sunrise, they vowed to always seize the day.

Meanwhile, Ginny remained close to both couples, and when Harry and Draco decided that they were ready to add to their family, she immediately offered her services as their surrogate. She was twenty four years old at the time; they were twenty five. Nine months later, Lucille Ginevra Potter was born. Lucy was a lucky baby to be born into such a large and loving family. By the time she could talk, she was calling Ginny "Mum" and everyone else either "Aunt" or "Uncle." Narcissa and Molly were "Grandma," Arthur was "Grandpa," while Harry and Draco were "Dad" and "Daddy," respectively. Lucy had Draco wrapped around her little finger, not the least of which was due to the fact that she was named after one of the first friends he had made in Narnia.

In the aftermath of the war, while Harry had been busy helping the wizarding world recuperate from the disaster that had been Voldemort, Draco had begun to search for the Pevensies, as he had never forgotten their kindness to him and wondered what had become of them. After many months of hard work, and a lot of seemingly useless leads and dead ends, Draco finally managed to track down Susan Pevensie. Harry had let him go alone, sensing this to be a private matter that his husband would share with him when he was ready. Susan and Draco's reunion had been both joyful and sad. Susan had informed him that her siblings had died many years ago in a train crash. Draco was heartbroken to discover that not even Lucy had survived. He found peace, though, in knowing that they were with Aslan and that He would watch over them. Susan looked skeptical at his assertion, and Draco realized then that she'd given up on both Narnia and on Aslan. He scolded her heartily, berating her for forsaking her faith.

"After all," he said, "Where would I be without Him? I'd still be lost, and I wouldn't have Harry to go home to or get up in the mornings with. And where would Edmund have been? Where would any of us – traitors, reformed, or otherwise – be without Aslan?"

Then Susan had fallen to her knees and sobbed for having lost sight of what was really important: her family, her Father. But now, she had Draco again; they had been reunited by the grace of Aslan and she wouldn't throw this chance away. Draco's sudden appearance had reminded Susan of who she was and who she had always been, and led to her believing in Narnia and in Aslan again. Draco brought Susan home with him that night, introducing her to everyone with whom he had shared the tale of his adventures in Narnia. She was welcomed with open arms. After that evening, Susan could often be found in the Potter home, regaling whoever would listen with stories of her own times in Narnia. Ginny eventually offered her own home to Susan – a modest little flat within walking distance of Harry and Draco's residence, though she used the Floo as much as she did her own two feet – explaining that she knew what it was like to live alone and that she could use the company. Susan accepted, and the two women – one old, one still in the prime of her youth – moved in together. Thus, when Lucy was born, it was with tears in her eyes that Susan was dubbed another "Grandma."

Though Susan still had doubts on occasion, talking with Draco always eased these fears, for one look at Draco's wedding band reminded Susan who commanded them all. The Potter's rings were unique, each designed by them for their respective partner. Harry's ring had three stones: a pearl in the middle, to represent Draco's birthstone, with a pair of smaller rubies on either side, to represent Harry's birthstone. Meanwhile, Draco's was the opposite of Harry's: a ruby in the middle with a pair of smaller pearls on either side. Both rings were made of gold, and Draco's had a special addition: on the inside of his ring, there was a sketch of a lion's head, complete with magnificent mane, and the words "No Greater Love," to remind him of Aslan's sacrifice. All Draco had to do to alleviate Susan's fears was to show her this ring and remind her that there was no greater love than Aslan's love (though Harry's love came rather close) and that Aslan would never desert them, no matter what they may have done or thought they'd done to alienate Him.

* * *

><p>Eventually, Harry and Draco forced themselves to get up, knowing that Ginny and Susan would be over soon to accompany them to the station. Draco left his warm bed – not to mention the safety of Harry's arms – for the sake of putting on some clothes so as to appear decent for company. As he bent over to retrieve his underwear, Harry lightly smacked him on his already-reddened arse. He jumped, whirling around to face Harry, who was grinning cheekily at him, knowing full well that Draco would never object to something he secretly enjoyed. Choosing not to comment, Draco settled for rolling his eyes and continuing to get dressed. He could allow Harry this one victory, after all.<p>

Walking cautiously down the stairs – he was actually still quite sore from the previous night's "activities" – Draco prepared breakfast for both his husband and his daughter. Setting the table, he went back upstairs to wake Lucy. Tip-toeing quietly into her room, he took stock of her trunk sitting in the corner, all packed and waiting to be taken to the station, and felt a lump forming in his throat as he fought back tears. Walking closer, he bent over Lucy's pillow, on which her auburn colored hair was splayed like liquid fire, to kiss her forehead.

"Good morning, Princess," he whispered softly, "Time to wake up."

Lucy groaned, but obediently sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Daddy," she whined.

"You don't want to miss the train to Hogwarts, now, do you?" he chided her gently.

"I guess not," she sighed.

"What's the matter, Angel?" asked Draco, moving to perch on the edge of her bed. "Don't you want to go to Hogwarts anymore?"

"I thought I did," Lucy answered. "But I don't want to leave you and Dad. You'll be all alone without me here."

"We'll manage, darling," said Draco, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. "But we'll miss you, all the same."

"I'll miss you, too," she wailed, throwing herself at Draco.

"Oh, there, there," he soothed her, rubbing her back and petting her hair, just as he did for Ginny whenever she was upset. "We'll write as often as you like. And maybe we can even manage to visit once in a while. How 'bout that?"

"I'd like that," Lucy sniffed, moving to wipe the tears from her eyes. Draco stopped her, however, moving his own hands to cover hers, and wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

"It'll be alright, precious," he promised her. "You'll have fun at Hogwarts. There are ghosts, and portraits that can walk and talk, and moving staircases . . ." his voice trailed off as he allowed for her to imagine all that he and Harry had ever told her about the grand castle that was to be her home for the next seven years.

Lucy crawled from the head of her bed to settle on Draco's lap, her arms coming to wind about his neck as she held on with all her might. "I'll go," she told him, "I'll be brave, just like you and Dad were during the war, and like you were when you fought the White Witch. I'll make you all proud, just wait and see."

"I've no doubt you will, baby," said Draco, grateful that his daughter's head was buried in his neck so that she couldn't see the sheen of tears lining his eyes, "Now, how about some breakfast? I've made your favorite!"

"Chocolate chip pancakes?" Lucy exclaimed, "Oh, boy!"

She jumped down off the bed and pounded down the stairs to the kitchen, where her – and Draco's – favorite breakfast was waiting, still piping hot. Draco followed at a much slower pace, encountering Harry waiting for him just outside of Lucy's bedroom door.

"You were wonderful," he whispered, "Just now, in there. I love you so much, Draco."

"I know you do," Draco replied, "As I love you. Is it wrong, though, that I still worry about failing, as a parent, a husband, and a friend?"

"No, I think it's perfectly natural," Harry assured him. "I know that I have some of the same worries as you just listed. I don't want to mess up what I have, not after I waited so long for peace and for a family to love me as I am – or even despite what I am."

Draco knew that he was referring to the Dursleys. Harry had sought them out after the war was over to let them know that it was safe to return. Draco had insisted on coming along, and it was a good thing, too. Vernon had tried to beat up on Harry as he had when Harry had still been a minor, but Draco and Harry both got the better of him. Since then, neither the Potters nor the Dursleys had had any contact with one another.

Harry and Draco were passing by the living room when they heard the fireplace roar to life, and they knew that someone had just arrived, most likely either Ginny or Susan.

"I'll go see who it is," said Draco, leaning over to peck Harry lightly on the lips. He opened the door to find Ginny brushing soot and ash off of her clothes.

She looked up at his entrance and smirked at the sight of him limping slightly. "Rough night?" she asked.

"You've no idea," Draco replied, winking at her. His body still tingled with pleasure from the night before, and he smiled genuinely as he recalled the way he'd been spread out on the bed, pliant, and ready for Harry to have his wicked way with him. Though it would be uncomfortable for him to sit down for at least a week, Harry always made the pain worthwhile.

"Susan should be coming through soon," Ginny informed him. Though not a witch, Susan still bore traces of Narnian magic, thus allowing for her to navigate the wizarding world as easily as anyone.

No sooner had Ginny finished speaking than the fireplace flared to life again, and an old woman stepped out, immediately moving to brush the soot and ash off of her own clothes. Time had been kind to Susan Pevensie. Though close to ninety years by now, her hair was merely peppered with gray strands, and she carried herself in a regal manner, like that of a queen (which, of course, she was).

"Draco," she said, moving to embrace him.

"Hello, Susan," he greeted her. "It's good of you to come."

"I wouldn't miss seeing my favorite grandchild off to her first year of school," said Susan, sounding affronted, but both Draco and Ginny knew that she was only teasing.

Offering Susan and Ginny an arm each, Draco led them into the kitchen where Lucy was busy devouring the plate of pancakes that Draco had so lovingly prepared for her. Harry was sitting by, watching her eat in silence, and relishing this last morning with his only daughter. Draco paused for a moment, savoring the sense of normality that had so long been denied him. Ginny and Susan, both of whom guessed where his thoughts were straying, gently squeezed his arm to let him know that they would always be there for him.

Shaking himself from his melancholy, Draco strode more fully into the kitchen, making his way over to Harry's chair and kissing him soundly on the mouth before making himself comfortable on Harry's lap. Though married for close to twenty years, their love for each other had never lessened. Despite the lines that had begun to form and the weight that each had put on – not just them, but everyone in their little group – Draco still thought that Harry was as beautiful as the day they'd first met. And though Draco's hairline had started to recede, Harry wouldn't even think of looking at another man, for no one could hold a candle to Draco.

Lucy watched her parents kiss and hid her smile from them. She knew that they had been worried about how she would be treated for having two dads. And though she tried to keep it from them, she _had_ been teased. But she always managed to hold her own, and gave as good as she got. She loved her parents – her whole extended family, for that matter – more than anything, and she wouldn't let anyone get away with saying bad things about the people who had given her life. From what she'd seen, they were more in love than many of the "straight" parents she knew. Though their fights were legendary, so were their "make ups." And at the end of the day, each knew that the other would stand by them no matter what. Despite her youth, they made Lucy believe in love and want that for herself, someday.

Susan took a seat near Lucy and bent over to whisper in her ear, "They're really something, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," replied Lucy, smiling gaily up at her surrogate grandmother in a way that reminded Susan of the girl she was named for. This thought brought tears to her eyes, which Lucy was quick to notice. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?" she asked, knowing full well that she sometimes overwhelmed Susan with how much she resembled the Lucy she was named for.

"It's alright, dear," said Susan, patting her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I was just caught off guard, that's all."

Lucy nodded and went back to her breakfast, while Ginny took a seat next to Susan and joined in her favorite activity: "Harry and Draco watching." Throughout her career as a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny had gone on many dates, with both guys and girls alike. She'd never felt that connection, though, the one that was so evident to anyone who ever saw Harry and Draco together. And so, Ginny ultimately ended any relationship that she started, choosing, instead, to be the favorite aunt that always visited "her" boys. Nowadays, she worked for the Daily Prophet as a Quidditch correspondent. She had yet to find that special someone, and she doubted if she ever would, now. But she didn't mind, not really, for what did she need a wife or a husband for when she already had a family?

Loathe as anyone was to mention the time, they all had to leave soon if they were going to be on time for the Hogwarts Express. Without a word, Lucy went up to her bedroom to fetch her trunk, accompanied by Harry and Draco, while Ginny bustled about the kitchen, cleaning the dishes. They were all ready to go in a few minutes, and approached the fireplace where there was a pot full of Floo powder. One by one, they all threw a handful in, and, speaking very clearly, appeared on the platform.

"We'll go first," said Ginny, nodding her head in the direction of the brick wall and gesturing to her and Susan. With that, they disappeared, leaving Harry and Draco alone with their daughter.

"You'll be sure and write to me, won't you?" Lucy asked them.

"Of course, darling," Harry assured her. "We'll write to you every day, if you like."

Lucy hugged both of them very tightly. Then, she pulled away, eyes set in a hard blazing look that was very reminiscent of her mother. "I'm ready, now," she told them. Together, they walked towards the barrier and appeared unharmed on the other side.

The steam from the engine was thick, but the Potter family was eventually reunited with Ginny and Susan, and even met up with Ron, Hermione, and their children, Rose and Hugo. There was just enough time to get everyone's luggage on the train before it was time for goodbyes.

Lucy waved madly out the window, watching as her parents, Harry, Draco, and Ginny, her aunt and uncle, Hermione and Ron, and her grandmother, Susan, disappeared from sight as the train gathered steam and sped away in the direction of Hogwarts. The next seven years would be some of the most difficult but some of the most exciting too, and Lucy couldn't wait to start on what was sure to be a grand adventure!

Harry and Draco stood with their arms wrapped around each other as they watched Lucy ride off towards her future. Ginny slipped her hand in Draco's, and Susan wrapped her own arm around Ginny's shoulder. Ron and Hermione stood close by and were wrapped up in each other, too. When the train was fully out of sight, they reluctantly pulled apart, turning to face the others.

"How about lunch?" Ron asked.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed, "You're always thinking about food."

"And don't say that you're a growing boy," Ginny chided him. "That excuse was old years ago."

The group laughed at Ron's expense, even Susan, before walking off together. Ginny fondled the pendant at her neck, an old Irish symbol – the claddagh ring. The hands were clasping a bejeweled heart made of peridot, her birthstone. Harry and Draco had given her the pendant to wear on a silver chain as a token of their appreciation for all she had done for them, both by carrying Lucy to term and in offering them her unwavering loyalty, friendship, and love. Life had turned out pretty well for all of them, if she did say so herself.

Up above, three children and a Lion watched the happy scene. "It is well done," said Aslan to Peter, Edmund, and Lucy, who all smiled in anticipation of the day they would be reunited with their loved ones, both those of their own blood and those they had chosen for themselves.


End file.
